


The Butterfly Effect

by Moonsheep



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aromantic Character, Craterstuck!, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, more pairings will be added, unrequited side parings, various perspectives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsheep/pseuds/Moonsheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave was bored. He hated his job, his post, his stupid luck, and more. The list seems to go on and on. He's going to be stuck on the west wall of Derse - a totally inactive post where nothing happens. It seemed like a dead end to his 'guardsman career'. Things got interesting when he found John in front of his camp. Little did he know that this stranger would change the world as he knew it either for the better or the worse.<br/>Pushed down the Dersian crater, John was lucky to survive with only a twisted ankle. The worst part however wasn't over, it seemed like his appearance caused ripples in the society. Who is this "Heir" they're talking about? And what does Derse have to do with his past?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The dark skies loomed over with clouds. The clear fresh air thick with acrid black smoke.  luminescent green mushrooms blazed through the thick oppressive haze like misguided lines splattered across walls and pathways. Heat rose, intent on burning it’s mark on any living being that crossed its path. The Grand City is now burning up.

It's April thirteenth, a special day for the Crocker royal family, a traditional birthday party was planned, full of tiered cakes and sugary sweets of every magnitude, size, and flavor. Everyone was invited to the marbled halls of the crocker palace. It was as perfect as any day can be when things suddenly went very wrong.

A fire had replaced what had been a celebration of a very young boy, leaving half of the royal family members bleeding in a pool of blood while the other half's steel swords gleamed viciously in the candlelight, the hall was littered with smashed cakes and clotted with thick royal blood.

The party host was nowhere to be found.

And now, the palace burned, taking half the corpses with it. Every citizen panicked, Commander Strider, one of the most powerful men in Derse had been defeated in battle by an unnamed figure. Slain for treason, the undefeatable man finally fell.

All was lost. The Crocker dynasty has fallen. The world thrown into the throes of a nasty revolution. Damn the queen! Damn the patrols and the traitors in the alley, damn it all!

From the second the queen stepped in the ballroom, James English knew that his son’s fourth birthday won’t go well, not without the political tension and his ill brother on the throne transfixed on the new queen. Already there were objections from the people against that witch queen.The rumors of her were now proven true: she intends to run the whole entire show herself. She was cruel, ruthless and without a heart for a sense of mercy.These venomous traits created and circulated the rumors under the tables. New alliances were made to stop this malevolent evil. All of these burned down along with the beautiful marbled halls, slowly fading into a remnant of the past. He knew he needs to escape. Like it or not, he was in the center of the storm as the biggest suspect as the leader of the opposition party. James’s feet flew across the market square and into an alleyway. His suit was defiled, dirty, and torn with blood, dust, and cake. the backpack that he carried was unscathed and that’s all what matters for him.

All the strenuous work, the painstaking plans of a bloodless takeover, the alliances, all of them gone in an instant when the queen raised her trident and the royal armies flood in. Traitors, all of them. And now, as one of the survivors of the massacre, all of the pain and the rage didn’t amount to anything. It didn’t matter to James. he had his own set of problems to worry about. mainly about his precious son. he needed to escape to assure for his survival. Derse could sink lower for all he cared. he squared his shoulder and adjusted his pack. There was no better time to make it now. The streets were clear.

He  ran down the heated cobblestone roads of Derse and through the narrow alleyways of the deeper levels of Derse. All of that could burn and shrivel for all he knew and he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash over it until later. It’s not important. They got Jake, his lively ten year-old son. One of his joys in life. they had taken it away so easily to a place where he couldn’t possibly reach him. There was no time getting Jake back now.  As he desperately wanted to do so. there was no point. James is a rational man. it was what he prided himself for and what allowed him to survive the Condesce’s rise. The Condesce is known for not showing mercy on her victims. He’s probably dead now  strung like those filthy criminals and impaled on stakes.

No! He won’t let that happen to anyone else of the Crocker dynasty! Not to him, not to his youngest son, John! He was almost at the west wall. There was just a bit more distance to cover to get John to safety.

He felt his pack jostle a bit. Inside came a high and uncertain whimper.

“Dad?” John mumbled “ Jake?” slowly the sleep addled mind of the toddler cleared. “where are we?”

“Daddy’s here” James crooned “It’s okay. Go back to sleep John.”

“Halt!” came a voice. “stay where you are!” it was the voice he knew well, a voice of respect turned to hate and revulsion.

“Samuel”James spoke, His voice hoarse and pained. “Don’t make me do this.” He slowly turned around and faced the heavily armored man.

“Do what? Dad? Unca-Sammy?” the muffled voice came from the pack again it was small and uncertain. John was intimidated and had never heard the raised voice from the dedicated guardsman. The voice reached the two and froze them like statues of ice, but not for long.

“Traitor,” the man who was once James’s friend, spat, “you don’t deserve such mercy.” He unsheathed his Claymore - a weapon he specialized in. Legends of the great Backbreaker are not based from thin air. James couldn’t block the monstrous piece of steel even if he tried, but nevertheless he gripped his sabre and waited for the blow.

It never came.

“Go.” The man says cautiously lowering his sword. “You once saved my life. Consider my debt paid, you won’t be so lucky next time. If it wasn’t for the innocent prince, you’d be dead.”

“Thank you” James bowed his face painted with a wash of relief. His voice was thick “I am in very much in debt with you”. he made a run for it hoping Samuel wouldn’t change his mind. He can’t bear to see either of his two innocent sons suffer and die from such pain. He can do nothing for the other members of his family in this situation of his only to pray for their safety. The most he can do now is to ensure John’s safety., He can’t let his emotions cloud his mind now. Act first, mourn later. He saved his feelings for later, he needs to get John out of this paradise-turned-hell.

“Where are we Dad?” John asked again uncertainly his voice shaky.

“It’s okay son” James says in what he hoped to be a reassuring voice “we’re going on a trip, that’s all.”

The head of the blaze cooled slightly as his aching legs reached the edge of the well fortified citadel. He had finally reached the western edge of the city, a well guarded area where no attack from above could reach. It was a treacherous cliff made by a huge crater, but it is not a dead end. Over the years, the Dersites have built into it’s face, and now, ladders and scaffoldings, like the track marks of a fly, littered it’s once smooth surface.

Due to the haphazard structure of the ladders, it was hard to get to the surface but it was his only chance for survival.

he gripped the grimy wooden sides of the worn steps and started to climb.


	2. Stagnant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave's not having a good day. Well... he hasn't had a good day since what? his academy days???

From the first day he was assigned a patrol routine at the west wall, Dave Strider knew his prospective career won’t be going anywhere higher than a errand boy anywhere in the next five years at best. He didn’t mind the lack of violence and arguments. Oh no, That wasn’t something he wanted into in a hot and humid day. The silence is awesome. Super. He didn’t mind the quietness of the post at all. It was cool. _Peachy_ in fact.

Who is he kidding?! Dave hated his fucking job! Specifically the area he’s stationed in. If it weren’t for his  _dearest_ older brother, he could have gotten a _better_ position with something to actually _do_ during the hot days of the Dersite summer. Heck, He might even be a little more respected and recognized as a swordsman. Instead he ended up in this deadlock, a stagnant place with sluggish and slimy time flow. It was frustrating as hell. He was sick of the idleness - hours days and weeks blended into months on the wooden scaffoldings - pointless hours wasted on nothing. The post was just as useless as a third wheel on a bicycle, Redundant wood shavings thrown over the compost to rot. There was literally nothing exciting to do, no girls to pick up or flirt with, no friends or rivals to spar or compete with. Nothing.

The worst thing is that he knew why They were doing this to him. And that scared him. To think that no matter where he’d go in life he would be forever watched by at least a single pair of eyes, often cruel and calculating and mostly trigger happy. It’s like being stuck in a room collared, naked, with those god-awful smuppets and Lil’ Cal - his brother’s stupid creepy-ass puppet. Sometimes he wonders if these people ever knew that he noticed their spying on him. Other times he wonders what he could have done without all the restrictions that were applied after the Strider family’s fallout with the Guardsmen of Derse. Rose called it a “passive aggressive war with countless fronts” but that was too far from the truth, Dave was (and still is) intentionally stranded by the higher ups and he knew it. he’s stuck in the epicenter of a sharp ball of needles, one false move from him and they’ll eagerly strike.

His daily schedule consisted mostly of cloud staring and thinking up new sick fires and rhymes and scribbling them on the bleached floor boards with pieces of charcoal he managed to smuggle up the place. The chances of him being a bard someday is just as likely as a snake with functioning and able legs. There should be a chart to measure boredom. At least that would be interesting.However, forming these sick ballads was becoming repetitive. Dave never imagined that he could get sick of and creating those sick ballads and _that_ should have raised red flags about his freaking job.

As much as he wanted to protest, Dave knew he needed to lay low after what Dirk did with that plan of his. so he writes songs instead of complaints. It’s fairly harmless and gets him out of trouble alright, and at least he’s doing his job.

The occasional  mutant monsters that the Guardsmen had sworn to protect Derse from offered nothing challenging to him. These monsters from the western and the northern walls are the smaller and weaker ones, the actual action happens at the east wall where monsters are aplenty and the sick fires literal. Dave’s combat skills are known to be superior to most of his other fellow guardsmen apprentices. and if he were given the chance, he was sure that he and his beloved sword- Caledscratch, could beat half of the older upperclassmen. The other half had the experience that he didn’t have in their battlefields with the behemoths from the east wall. To Dave these stunted midget ‘monsters’ were nothing. They were fish fry, dandelions parachutes, iridescent soap bubbles. He was placed in the advanced class and passed with flying colours. This place is a blank and obnoxious wall, the most interesting thing lately was the quarreling downstairs of a drunken Anglerman and his wife. As amusing the colourful language they use are, he only listened to them if he was truly bored. It wasn’t even that funny.

He did have a ‘home’ to return to, but he never bothered to do so. He was annoyed by the stares and the finger pointings and the not-so-subtle gossiping from the people of Derse. It was better if he was erased from their minds altogether. He wasn’t even sure that the whole city of knew he even existed with all the hiding he did. It’s like he’s been redacted from the books or something. Dave kept it that way, he disliked those disapproving looks and curious meddling stares as much as the next person would. Still, he had to admit that it was lonely with minimum social contact and his self-house arrest.

Every fucking day he stares at the overly cheerful sky wondering how it would be like to fly away from this shithole and perhaps sneak away for a while. the city probably wouldn’t miss a guard or two. Like every other ordinary day he waited for the sunset to arrive and the day to end. He knew he could fast forward time - the claimed children of Hephaestus are blessed with time powers after all - However, he couldn't risk having dead Daves turning up on his doorstep the next morning and having to explain to the residents below where the cherry red blood came from and have them know where he was. Soon after the said contact, there probably would be rumors about the ‘traitor’s spawn’ lurking about the western wall. So he sat through the whole show taking long breaks and naps in it’s most predictable moments until the sky darkened. Another freaking day spent without cause.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dave spotted the dark blob on the scaffolding above slinking away. the figure was moving too suddenly and too quickly to perfect the absconding act. ‘ _Amateurs’_ He thought amused. There was nothing to rush for.

Just as any random working day of the week, he headed towards his Guard Shelter, a deep cave dug into the face of the crater by men of the past, served as a convenient place to live in during the job since traveling down the wall was always a hassle and a waste of time. he had made this cave his personal fortress. Normally an average cave could house four people inside including the  showers and a small kitchen, but Dave had the place all to himself. It’s the only thing that keeps him from filing post change request. It was his only sanctuary, his VIP Prison-turned- luxury suite.

Dave knew the place by heart, although it looked similar to the other abandoned caves. He never marked the place and never thought he should do so. It was just safer that way, it pays to be cautious. You never know when a raid or a “check up” would happen. Here, he could relax on the soft mattress and unwind from the tension outside. Dave let out a mental sigh of satisfaction. he’s home at la- holy shit what was that sound?

A crashing sound - and not a small one either outside of his house. it seems like there are some last things to wrap up before this shop closes.

Gripping Caledscratch, Dave quietly crept out of the cave, mindful of the slight echo the empty space makes. the clear night sky was thankfully illuminated with a full moon so there was no need for a torch in particular. He had a nagging feeling. something was off.

This is highly unusual, if the thing that made the impact is a monster there would be more screaming, terrorizing people, raising cain, and causing minor scaffolding earthquakes by now. This is no monster, but that doesn’t mean that he gets to relax his guard he now held Caledscratch up his expression masked, his shaded eyes darting back and forth analysing the current situation at hand. he heard something shift an additional whimper was heard from above. Well... up it is then.

Holding back a frustrated sigh, Dave strider began to scale the scaffolding and with a pale hand, hoisted himself up onto the first ledge he sees.

Little did he know that this discovery of his would change his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do hope this sounds like Dave... it's kinda hard to write like him (does it even sound like him? idk I tried??)
> 
>  
> 
> Still figuring out how to format properly -_-|||  
> I'm guessing that this is going to be an almost-weekly thing???


	3. Brewing Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the some characters meet for the first time and when the wheels start turning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess it's not a weekly thing.... :(  
> but exams...  
> but prep...  
> but IB...  
> but graduation...
> 
> *sigh* it' hard to write a cheerful john...  
> and a dave.....  
> *sigh* do I get my gold star?  
> Edit: fixed some formatting issues ... should hopefully be okay

The sharp pain in his ankle was bearable at best, but it was the least of John’s worries. He’s stuck. In a strange place. How the hell did he end up like this anyway? How did things get so screwed up?

He remembered trying to escape from the confectioneries and the colourful confetti - his over-the-top birthday party His dad had insisted to have - only to be dragged into the forest by a bunch of popular and drunk asshats. He remembered them hoisting him up as if he was prey, or some random lamb to the slaughter and tossing him down slamming him on the rusty wire fencing. The sweat-soaked hands on the collar of his dull brown tunic and the beer-stained breath speaking repulsively. He remembered other shadows - probably other popular people jeering at him, it was probably only two or three bystanders, but to him, it felt like the whole town was watching him, glaring and laughing with their cold brown eyes. The hands tightened and threw him against the rusty fence again. There was a groaning sound of metal. And then his back hit nothing.

And then he fell.

‘I was lucky.’ John thought wincing all the time as he tried to move his leg to assess the damage the fall had done to him. And it was true. it could have been worse. throughout his walks in the forest, he had seen strange creatures. Horrible creatures that had crawled up from the earth. the creatures from Derse. he had seen one attack the town - a giant that had took almost twenty men to slay. ‘I could have been shish-kebab-ed by one of those monsters or worse.’ he continued thinking.

Now everyone would think he was a lost cause. people who fell in the pit never survived. They were never heard of again. It was a wonder actually with all the shit that had fallen on him, he had survived the fall - probably the first one to do so in ages. At that instant, another cold and chilling thought seeped through John’s spine: how would he survive now? As an outcast of Prospit, no one would surely create a search party for him. He might as well be fish bait - in this case monster bait - some sort of morsel of food for a giant or something even worse.

His dad must be worried sick about his disappearance. and it won’t be long for him to notice such a thing. He was always easily worried. he needed to get back to his dad. or at least give him a sign that he’s alive or something.

John sighed and glanced at the darkened violet sky and at the stars. At least that’s a familiar sight for him. He always loved how the skies looked even during the night. He’d make new constellations and point them out to anyone who would listen - mainly his dad, and even earlier, his beloved Nana. He unintentionally let out a sob and then stopped. Who knows what’s out here in the unknown? John glanced around at his surroundings in search for potential threats.

He had fallen on something like a bridge it seems pinned into the edge of the Dersian crater. why it was there, he had no idea. At least it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Half of him would like to crawl to the edge and see what was it down there that made this place so feared of. The other half of him shook vigorously against that idea. It would be stupid to do such a crazy impulsive act right now.

So what now? John stared at the luminous moon. At this limited light, he couldn’t do anything without at least attracting a monster or two. It was clear that he needed to wait for the daylight to come. He needed to find some sort of shelter.

With that thought, John tried to stand again. this time,using the wall as a support. It wasn’t that bad as he thought it would be. There was only now a numbing pain - if he didn’t move it much that is. It’s alright. he can do this. John let out a small smile and took his first step with the support of the wall.

A harsh rasping sound of metal made John’s blood freeze. He let out a frightened gasp. What if it’s a monster?

”Don’t move.” came the harsh and guarded voice from the direction of the sickening sound . It’s a person! John was momentarily filled with relief, but that left as soon as it entered his system.

“Please,” he said “I’m lost.”

“Hands where I can see them” the voice snapped as if he never heard John’s statement. Although the voice was probably around his age, John figured out pretty quickly that this was a voice not to be messed with. So slowly and shakily he put his hands up to signify that he had brought no weapons and meant no harm.

“Good,” the Voice continued, “now turn around. slowly... try anything and you’ll definitely regret it.” John slowly moved his hands as a support and slowly turned towards the voice utterly frightened by it. He closed his eyes tight in nervousness... blades always made him nervous, especially swords, oh how he hated those swords. He raised a hand up again once he stopped.“Now... who are you? What the hell are you doing up here?”

“What do you mean ‘up here’? ”John said incredulously despite his fears against this stranger. “I fell down. See? I even twisted my ankle!” he heard a snort of laughter and opened his eyes.

John’s guess was right. The voice is indeed from a teenage boy around his age. The stranger’s probably the kind where girls would swoon over. His complexion was slighly tanned, perhaps freckled? John could tell the stranger was lean muscled. This person knows how to use a sword he was trained for it. The most shocking aspect of the stranger’s appearance was his hair. The colour of the hair itself was almost stark white, and under the moonlight, it sort of glowed? How strange! John couldn’t see the eyes of the stranger as they were shaded with sunglasses but that suited him well enough. John assumed that he’s a guard of some sort by the uniform he wore and the sword he now held threatening him.

“No shit.” The mysterious guardsmen said sarcastically “Nice try kid. Now tell me: why in the love of the apple-juice gods are you here?”

“What?” John stammers “ but it’s the truth! I did fall down from Prospit! Please! Believe me!

“People die from that fall” The stranger paused letting those dull words sink into John’s skull. “they never survived. None of them did. So kid. If you want to lie do it more smoothly next time.”

“It’s true!” John says “ Look. I don’t know how I survived the fall, but I did it. And here I am! Please! Please believe me!”

Another scoff. “yeah, well. Listen. Your parents must be worried, Go home.”

“I’m your age for god’s sake! ” John irritatedly. He was now exasperated by how this strange guard’s attitude. Sure, he _might_ be a little on the short side at his age and he _might_ not weigh much, but John is sixteen and **still** growing “I can’t go home. My home’s up there.” he pointed at the general direction where he fell.

There was a slight pause.

“I’m dead serious” John says “I’m sixteen today.”

There was a rumble in the distance, and then an ugly screech of horrendous murder, a blood curdling inhuman cry John had only heard of in his distant dreams. The two glanced at each other. The blonde haired stranger took a guarded stance.

“What was that?” John asked nervously. “Is that a monster?”

“From the god awful sounds it makes? Yeah. Definitely.”“Can you run?” The guardsman asked.

“I twisted my ankle” John answered backing away from the wall.

A sigh erupted from the lips of the latter “Alright, Here’s what we do. You walk as fast as you can down the damned mammoth wall, I’ll follow behind you.If you don’t want to get your ass whupped by that piece of ugly work stay close to me. Seriously, You don’t want to mess with that piece of shit. You just don’t.” John merely nodded and started hobbling along the strange scaffolding. It wasn’t that painful if he used the wall as a crutch if he was to be honest about it, but he knew from past experience that if he moved too fast and make a wrong step the leg was going to send a horrible jolt of pain.

And so John limped down the wall Dave with his back against him guarding him at the horrid screeches. He was scared, but slightly relieved. At least he knew that the guard wasn’t going to kill him anytime soon so that’s awesome. On the other hand there was the monster to worry about. Despite the charged atmosphere against the horrifying creature, it was awkward and silent. John had the feeling that he should at least say something or introduce himself to the stranger.

“Alright, we’re down to the final stretch” the stranger says after they went down several floors. The stairs were not so hard to maneuver as they were slopes instead of ladders “one last fucking hurdle to the metaphorical safety. Let’s do this.“

”Don’t jinx it ” John muttered.

Suddenly there was a booming shockwave from a roar, the scaffolding on top of them shook.

“Shit! Kid, you totally jinxed it”

“No! you did! What are we waiting for, we should go!”

“I’m not leading that ugly son-of-a-bitch to the guards shelter. That would be fucking suicide. Stay here. I’ll ward him off or some shit.” and with that, The mysterious guardsman took a step towards the awful screeches,

And vanished.


	4. Some Rewinds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so... the fight begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the author does not know how to battle- write stuff.  
> apologies for the extensive writer's block DX...  
> I really need to learn how to write lengthy chapters :(

For Dave, leaping out of the time loop wasn’t so bad. He didn’t feel as unsteady and as dislocated as he used to be and he was mostly in his element. It wasn’t always this way though, children blessed by the ‘time gods’ were cursed to forever walk around with time irregularities. That was the stupid reason why Dave couldn’t just waltz to the market and swipe some expensive- as- fuck apple juice from the pretentious fruit -seller . It used to bother him during his childhood years snagging him from one place to the other as if he was some sort of abused ragdoll by a very very eager child high on crystalite drugs or sopor slime. It was some sort of Jegus miracle that he made it through his childhood in in one piece. Of freaking course it involved a ton of strider- trademarked training and ironic rap ballad battles about him and Jessica - his personified time girlfriend. Man those were the good days.

He thought he and Jessica had something special. had a deal worked out and compromised. it seemed to not be that way. Maybe Jessica seemed to be in one of her more Darker moods today. Dave was sure he had done nothing wrong to his metaphorical time-girlfriend... at least not when he last checked. But it was done. He was left out of the time loop again. Heart-broken and dislocated by his cruel cold -hearted ex-.

“Jessica” He muttered as he observed his surroundings. He’d seen the posts of the scaffolding before and the view was familiar so he was at least in a favorable location. The walls along the face of the scaffolding was destroyed. It’s smooth face was gouged and scarred by brutal swipes of sharp stuff. His ex- had just thrown him over at the past... perhaps about two or three minutes ago when he heard the monster pass the second round of scaffoldings.

After all of the work he’d done to secure the prisoner, to make him talk and at least have an entertaining finish to the day. After some hard- earned company, lady luck decided to turn the table once more with a sadistic glee. No. Dave Strider shall not hold epic quality conversations with randomly appearing strangers, instead he’s going to die. Painfully. Dave can see the banners  and morals coming from a shitty story already. The gossipy maids with their eager nosy rumors telling and interpreting the happenings to their own desires. Probably something about valiant heroes... or a fallen knight trying to redeem honour or some random shit like that. They would then be reprimanded by an old hag that would eventually intervene giving the cheezy  ‘be careful what you wish for’ trope.

To be fair, that stuff was somewhat accurate in a once- in- a- blue- moon kind of way. He’ll have to get to that weird prisoner if he wanted that injured dude to survive. The opportunity for some company and someone to **talk** to, even if it was an interrogation, that opportunity to actually talk with someone seemed like a light at the end of the tunnel. Now that the raps have gone bad and the ballads have gone sour, Dave was desperate for something new. It just so happens that that something new  could possibly be snatched away again by some monster passing by.

He wasn’t going to let the stranger go oh- so- calmly to the symbolic wolves.

Dave had a plan. but he had to wait for the right moment to strike. He gripped Caledscratch and leaned against a post. listening. waiting.

‘He won’t get far’ Dave hoped remembering the dark haired boy with his sprained ankle. He had that scared and disoriented look in his eye. It looked convincing, but then he remembered, a small dose of slime pie might just do the same to get the dazed  disoriented look on humans. Druggie or no, he’s still got to defend them anyway. He’s still got the code to follow to stay under the noses of the already suspicious authorities.

The ground shook again as Dave felt the monster dragging his heavy footsteps, roaring and enraged.

“Right” Dave muttered as he climbed over the edge of the scaffolding. “Show time.” he jumped right onto the platform below him, a faster method of transportation with a pre- made instant attack. Boom! two birds with one stone.

The kick _definitely_ worked. It _definitely_ landed on some squishy surface of the skin of the monster. But it only served to stun him. Dave quickly slashed Caledscratch at the nearest surface of the revolting monster and jumped back. He was pretty sure it was  an Ogre judging from the silhouette of the gigantic thing and it’s massive tusks. Man that thing is huge. But when was that enough to stop him from fighting? He didn’t go through the intensive Strider training for jack shit after all.

The monster was tall. We’re talking about more than eight meters of height in total. He barely fitted between the height of the scaffoldings. Luckily the scaffoldings are rigged as a platform in case monsters needed any killing. The skin was a tough leathery but dirty chalk white - a disgusting pallid colour that reminded Dave of the rationed porridge they serve in the knight’s academy. It’s yellowish teeth showed dark stains of what could be blood and smelled of rotten things mostly of red meat gone bad. Apparently human flesh is still on the menu for it.  The monster’s gleaming beady black eyes blazed angrily in the light casted by the full moon. Dave ducked under the shadowy darkness the wooden scaffolding pillars offered.

Tough talk aside, this opponent is going to need strategy to take down. He couldn’t just charge into the scene. That would be stupid. Not to mention that the idea of him getting pounded into a can of awesomeness would be painful it would immediately send him towards the man upstairs. he obviously can’t compete with it’s herculean strength. It wasn’t usual for the powerful monsters to be so far away from the center of the abyss, but he couldn’t complain. It’s a mighty challenge, and he’ll take it. Dave slinked deeper into the shadows and waited for the monster. Watching for his sluggish movements.

Suddenly, the wind direction changed. The ogre’s nose twitched as he started to walk towards Dave.The huge figure seemed to have caught his scent. The jig was up. Dave charged against the back of the monster and sliced at it’s chalk white skin, the black tar- like blood oozing out of the dead flesh-wound. It didn’t cut open the stomach. Dislodging the sword from the back of the ogre, Dave allowed himself a little smirk and stepped out of the time loop.

Picking the right place to land in time was quite hard as there are certain rules and requirements. and there are possible alternative timelines he could leap into an out of and all that crazy jazz. This isn’t the time to be fooling around and derping about. He needed back-ups. Fast. Choosing the second right after that epic leap assault, Dave slid out of the timeline and landed with a  smack right on top of the ogre’s back. He held on. seconds later, the previous Dave appeared with the improvised drop-kick and the slash.

Now that he thought of it, that slash was pretty half-assed. It was like the worst combination of apple and orange juices mixed together or crappy un-ironic music. That motion didn’t even cut through the muscles of the gigantic brute. it may be bleeding but it was only skin deep.

Ogres were known to have very thick skin. it may be slow, but it’s strength and hide compensated for it. It was the stuff the older elite guardsmen were in charged with. At least - an ogre this size anyway. There wasn’t any soft spots on the skin. Dave wished he’d listen more to the monster anatomy class they forced everyone to do in their first year. He aimed at the neck of the ogre. the blow delivered was slightly effective. tiny traces of the black tar- like blood welled up from the thin wound. That cut would have been a mortal wound. Shit.

Dave leaped into the timeline again just as Past Dave was about to deliver the stomach blow. He re-winded the whole scene again and appeared at the side of the ogre, seconds after the stomach blow, above it’s head. Maybe there is something there for him to strike from. Dave felt the air and instantly knew he miscalculated the drop. He flailed desperately. His hands caught something, and he felt the downward rush stop abruptly. He was barely hanging on the tusk of the Ogre. Perilously close to its mouth. The ogre yowled from the sudden weight increase. It swung its head around in an attempt to shake him away. Dave managed to get a nice foothold on it’s massive shoulders. It wasn’t an ideal place to plan a picnic but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

The monster growled. Okay... maybe it’s time to shorten those sick metaphors. Dave righted himself and slowly began to climb up it’s face.

The Ogre let out an indignant roar, perhaps from the way Dave latched on it’s nose, Dave knew he’s not going to hold out much longer, not when he’s getting tossed around like a ragdoll in the breeze like this. He had to act. Raising Caledscratch he stabbed it’s eye. Hard.

The blade stuck as he felt the black blood flow. The ogre let out a painful ugly roar and blindly began to rampage. It shook it’s head violently and blindly shoved it’s way towards the wall nearly crushing the knight.Not for the first time Dave wondered why couldn’t they at least train the knights with archery without the honor code sword crap. The ogre’s hands were now swiping  on it’s face. He was becoming a threat to it. A threat that it wanted to crush. Dave pulled his sword out and jumped away before it could manage to get him under it’s massive hands.

“OI!! UGLY!!!” he shouted goading It, “over here!  I bet your grandma can walk faster than you run. Yeah! That’s right you heard me!” he says. The ogre was far from dead. Time leaping was taking it’s toll on Dave’s strength. He needed some time to recuperate.

Hearing the ruckus Dave made, the Ogre charged. Oops. He probably shouldn’t insult the big guy’s grandmother. Must have been a sore spot on him.

Dave ran and ran from the ogre. This was a bad idea. And that was the understatement of the year. Why didn't he think about the length of the ogre’s longer legs before he did that? He was screwed. So screwed.


	5. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final scene...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! for actually going on time! *mentally pats her back*  
> next update is longer i promise!

The scaffoldings above John shook unsettlingly and for the -nth time he prayed to whatever entity who’s in charge of keeping the place upright to do it’s job properly.

The pale blonde stranger had literally vanished into thin air. He’d been gone for a long while. Maybe he’d been a ghost? John shivered at the thought. The sword had seemed real enough for him. Maybe a bit too real, a bit too cold, and a bit too sharp. No. The stranger probably wasn’t a ghost as interesting the idea could be.

It had been about five minutes after the stranger vanished. John wasn’t going to obey the the guardsman and stay right he was. He might be scary, but to John, a monster (probably with towering height and some poisonous implements of torture in their anatomy) was way scarier. John wasn’t about to let the monster get to him that easily.

Despite the determined and passionate argument for the safety of a captive in face of a monster, he was still at the same level of scaffolding around twenty meters away from the area he started.

Damn his sprained leg.

The shaking of the scaffoldings stopped momentarily and then started again with a greater force than before. John gulped and hoped that the stranger would be alright even if he pointed his weapon at him. It was his job after all.

Better save his thoughts for later. Escaping is priority right now.

Seconds ticked into fives and tens and eventually into minutes, he was sweating, trying not to move the leg as much as he could. Every time he did, white hot pain shot through him. The leg was starting to swell and it was hard trying not to move it. He needed to find a splint, or make some soon. He hadn’t made much progress around the face of the cliffs, maybe another twenty meters  or something, but it didn’t look it. The scaffoldings seemed to extend to forever without an end. the place was probably built in a big spiral with the occasional ramps and ladders he saw.

Although the ladders were faster, John didn’t want to try his luck with them. They were old looking, with splinters and he had an injured foot with worn out shoe soles. John thought that the stranger must be a pretty good fighter to keep the monster at bay for him against a fast escape.

The shaking of the wooden scaffolding stopped abruptly. John paused and then upon the realization that the monster was dead he mentally jumped in joy and did his best victory dance.

There was a huge vibrating crash. The boards above him shook. The old thick wood creaked and gave way with a sudden shake. There was a loud noise. The wooden scaffolding finally gave way. Exploding a bunch of old gathering dust, saw dust, and cobwebs into the night air forming a strange cloud of filth. The impact knocked John onto the smooth worn out surface beneath him. he landed with an: “oof!”. His butt hurt. Thankfully, His feet didn’t. He could make out the huge lying figure of the monster through the dusty film of air. The wind stirred as he felt slightly hopeful. it was finally over, the strange knight had somehow slain the monster!

**“RRROOOOAAAAARRRRRR!”**

Or... maybe not. The dust and debris blew away with courtesy to the increasing wind. The view cleared. There, the monster sat up in it’s  the pale and horrid glory. The wind ceased. But the monster must have caught his scent because it was slowly getting up and heading towards John.

John was petrified. What was he supposed to do now?

Several flashes of red light suddenly illuminated the monster in it’s vibrant light. The monster hissed in irritation and shielded itself from the blinding light. John saw several people... people that look identical as the strange guardsman appear from the said light as if it were a portal and grab on to the monster. Hacking it with their swords.

It was as if the stranger was cloning himself as he fought.

“Get away from him! Prisoner! Walk! or... Run! ... whatever! Just go!” came one of the blonde stranger’s voice. “I’ll hold him off!”

The monster let off another growl and shook violently sending the stranger crashing into crater walls barely missing John. The other copies of the guardsmen immediately vanished again.

“Run... what are you doing?” The stranger demanded. John gingerly picked up the guardsmen’s sword. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. The wind seemed to pick up it’s pace. this time John didn’t think of running away. Let his scent blow towards the ogre for all he cares! he’s got nothing to lose anymore.

“No” he says more out of irritation than anything. He was sick of being pushed back and forth and not being able to do anything about it. He was pushed by the bullies, by the adults of the village, and now by both the guardsman and the fucking ogre. He was over the point of scared. Look at where the pushing got him! Down the hole with no family, no hope, nothing. None of the Prospitians ever survived from the fall. Everyone would think that he’s dead. John Egbert is angry, **livid** , and nothing, not even the stupid Ogre can stop him.

So John took the firmest stance he could, legs wide apart and ignored the pain from his twisted ankle. If he’s going down anyway, he’s going to go down in dignity, and at least be a bit of use to someone. John felt the wind pick up and swirl around the area. He ignored it and hoped that the ogre would instead detect him from the scent. He wanted this over with.

The velocity of the wind was escalating at an abnormal rate as if this were a violent storm. The pale ogre’s charge was thunderous. It was getting nearer by seconds. John swung the sword sideways like he would a hammer at the ogre just before it reached him out of instinct. He felt the sword cut through something.

The sword didn't’ strike the ogre’s skin at all. In fact the sword was nowhere near the ogre’s skin. And the next thing he knew a blasts of wind came roaring in through the scaffoldings and blew hard pushing the ogre and tipping it over the scaffolding as if the beast was a piece of parchment.

John staggered back suddenly feeling dizzy. His legs suddenly felt like lead. He saw black and red spots dance right before his eyes and felt himself collapsing on the comfortable wooden floor. He welcomed the darkness and sunk into it’s depths tiredly.

 


	6. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assassination begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry christmas everyone!  
> I do apologize for the fellow readers out there. College and writer's block were the main things for the extensive delay towards this chapter's release (and one of them probably would be a recurring pattern in the future). Please Enjoy this chapter as a christmas gift!

The plan was simple. Infiltrate the Empress’s castle, assassinate the Heiress, leave no traces. Bring an end to the Crocker dynasty.

The infiltration wasn’t as easy, but slightly less challenging than what was to come. Dirk had sent spies as a preemptive measure - robot decoys and humans alike- and collected the data as he would for a science project. He was prepared for this.

Tonight's the night. This is it, the last stand, the last chance to disrupt the Great Empress Condescension rule. It’s the grand opening to something greater. A starter before the main course. A prelude to the symphony.

After the well wishes from the camp , the blessings from the elderly, and his mentors Dirk prepared himself for what was to come. He strapped on his weapons, readied his lethal poisons, and draped his generic traveling cloak on the whole ensemble. He took a deep breath before making his way to the camp’s exit and into the slums.

The camp was originally built in the face of the rock much farther into the east, way past the walls. The place was originally found as a smuggler’s hideout - a cove with long gone rancid goods. It seemed that the owner of the cove had perished long ago, or had just simply forgot where he had stashed his goods at, either way, the small cove had expanded ever since, tunneling into the walls of a city like insidious roots. Over the years of careful tunneling, a small city-like network had came to life under the resistance. They had stopped digging when they reached the closest and the most inconspicuous area near the center of the city - one of the bigger slums where no one questions strange occurrences. No one raised a huge question when Dirk came out of the makeshift shelter that had covered the entrance of the camp. People often come and go around these parts, and it wasn’t unusual to find that a person has vanished randomly. No one wanted to question the darker side of disappearance especially when it would eventually lead them into deeper trouble.

Dirk looked at the miserable destruction. He felt like he was treading on someone’s broken hopes. His eyes and his blessing of Heart felt like a curse now, he could see the crushed hopes and feelings of the homeless he saw. Every broken thread in the web stood out so clearly, too sharply, and often it was simply too overwhelming. He hated the things only he could only see. He hated it when his blessing could glean on so many people’s emotion at once, especially broken ones like an assault. These broken and jagged feelings he saw disturbed him but it was what had kept him alive till now.

Talking about taking the queen down was just talk if one were to not do it. And Dirk wasn’t going to let his statement only become the hot air from his lungs. He had the hopes of his own rebellion to fulfill dammit! Dirk set his feet to work on auto pilot. His gaze on guard as he silently walked towards the center of the capital, strolling as if he had an aimless purpose within his gait. As if he were just another homeless one waiting for the death to take him over, because really, he’d had nothing to lose. Dirk slowly walked out of the slums.

Running would be a sure way to get caught. Running is a stupid thing to do in this situation, and only reserved with in places where you are truly trapped. Run right now, and he’ll blow his cover right over to the first fifty men he contacted and then some more who would raise the alarm against him. So Dirk took deep but quiet breaths as he walked, pacing himself and counting the numbers, trying to ignore the broken jags of the souls he sensed out there as much as he could. His tolerance was better than it was before the resistance started, but some of these sharp broken souls still cut through and got under him. It was suffocating.

Under the already dim night sky of the Dersian crater, the streets of the city that had once looked so radiant with the the gas lights now looked old and desecrated as the filth of the coup gathered. Like bugs to a sickening sweet scent.

Dirk had memories of what it was like back then, way before the disastrous birthday party, way before his older brother, the heir to their late parent’s titles, fell. The city had shone everywhere there was music and laughter, there were sights of merriment, and children were encouraged to bask in the rare sunlight Derse has to offer and play around. The streets back then were safe. Granted, it wasn’t a perfect city, but it was better than the state Derse currently is in. A sagging mess, a weak and defeated woman, a woman who was beautiful and shone with burden now beaten and rotting.

The city had suffered from the Empress's rule, anyone can see that. Even the trolls down from Alternia - a city far down under the Dersian crater- who aren’t usually affected any human politics, were seen laying about the wasting slums, intoxicated by the aftermath of the awful revolution. Often in a sad state, often sedated or beaten or both. with the traces of sopor - an addicting substance equivalent to the ordinary crystallite drugs would to be on a human.

Since the Grand Empress’s rule, the dark markets have expanded, slaves, crystalite drugs, and other illegal and dangerous commodities have both become common yet worth several kings’ ransoms. Men and women alike without jobs turned to the darker alternatives of trade unsafe and unfit for them, hoping for the next morning to come as they emptily prayed on a full stomach.

The rest of the world carried on as best as they could: children no longer played in the streets in fear of the slavers, the kidnappers, and that was just one of the lightest fate they could have had among the rest. The stalls now sold posters and propaganda materials instead of the once delicious foods of Derse. Any form of disrespect to the Empress led toward capital punishment or worse. Derse was dying.

This was why the operation was crucial, Dirk reminded himself. This was why he had to succeed. Keeping his anger in check, Dirk crossed the last of the slums.

What was once the grand main road was now broken. Literally. Glass shop windows littered the sides of cobblestone streets swept into the corners like lost items, Their displays long looted and pillaged by thieves. No one had bothered to clean it since the massacre eleven years ago. Since then ugly graffiti had crept among the walls ever changing but always similar in terms of text. The criminals, The dangerous squatters,and the hungry homeless slumped in the shop’s shadows. Dirk made his way walking among them, his head bent, blending with the squatters as he made way threading through each store. No one raised the alarm. There was nothing to raise with the guardsmen. Not when they too had the same chance of getting caught.

Dirk felt tense. It wasn’t like he hadn’t killed before. No. The day of his first kill was long gone. Even if he didn’t admit it himself, Dirk felt a slight sense of fear. A part of him kept reminding that this wasn’t like any of the missions he had, and that if he did fail this time it would forever waste the hopes of the people and most likely break them. Permanently. But that wasn’t the bigger part of his fear.

The bigger part worried about the victim. As much as the heir had been demonized by the rumors, there are conflicting sides of her stories garbled beyond comprehension. Dirk’s intel haven’t fished out anything qualitative against the Crocker heir. They were often destroyed or deactivated of service by the guards or he himself. He had nothing about her, her personalities and habits. She will have him at a slight disadvantage, assassination meant being quick and discreet and he can do neither as well if he had to track the heiress without a guide to her habits and her mind.

Ultimately this was also for his selfish reasoning as much as he would like to admit otherwise. The last thing he wanted to do was to kill an innocent person, even though at a technical standpoint it didn’t really matter if she was. Either way the revolution would finally complete its first main objective.

That is ... if he succeeds in this mission.

The hardest part starts now. The Crocker castle was built with luxury in mind the construction involved vast balconies, stained glass windows, flying buttresses, high ceilings, and several towers. The main part of the castle consists of about three floors at most with it’s construction. It was once open for commoners before as a good faith for the civilians of Derse and there were no gates and walls back then. The gardens were open for anyone to walk in, even the bridge of heroes - a beautiful stone bridge with the statues of the twelve founders of Derse paired side by side - the method of access against the deep and wide moat of the castle was undefended and guarded lightly. But since the coup, new walls were built and the castle remained closed.

Silently slipping out of the last alley, Dirk waited for a shadow before latching on to a passing caravan melting into the darkness the canvassed vehicle offered him. Dirk leaned against the edge of the canvas wall counting seconds until the wagon reaches midway of the stone bridge.

Eventually he felt the wagon elevation shift slightly. The sound of flowing water was awfully close. They had started to cross the bridge. Dirk jumped out of the wagon, his sound silenced by his muffled shoes. Quickly, he ran up to the bridge’s statues and hid behind it, shadow-stepping as he observed the guard’s patrolling systems.

The caravan eventually made it to the front of the gates before the guard halted it. Dirk took the chance as the only two guards rushed towards the wagon and began their inspection. He quickly shadow-stepped into the gardens. So far so good.

Unkempt and overgrown, the place was full of stray flowers and creeping vines making the place feel even more haunted. Perhaps it could be good hiding places for guards if the empress ever raised the security of the palace. She hadn’t declared the resistance a threat.It would be a quite a while before she probably does so. But even then, Dirk remained extremely cautious as he rushed to the side of the castle to a potential entrance one of his robots had spotted earlier in it’s ventures.

There, Dirk was safe, but only for a moment. The guard won’t be here for a while but he had to quicken his pace before the alarm would be raised. He crouched down to the entrance, one of the many the bars of the castle’s basement - possibly a castle dungeon for prisoners. Probably empty too judging from the lack of sound emanating from it. The bars were in no good condition themselves. Like the rest of Derse, everything fell into ruins due to the neglect of the empress. The bars were rusty and maybe with just a bit of incentive, he could get them out of the way with lesser time than he expected.

He reached in his pack and fished out his leather gloves and a jar of salve, which he quickly uncorked and generously smeared the bars with. The salve was one of his inventions against the Empress. He’d used it on his first mission and they had held a fond memory since then. He watched the rusted bars corrode from the acid and melt into a sludge which he then shoved to the side.

He had an entrance now.

The dungeon was surprisingly clean. Too clean for a crowd of prisoners to be living in, yet it’s strange as the air seemed to be disturbed and there are still signs of living in the area. The dungeon still wouldn’t be this clean if prisoners were frequently taken in. The empress doesn't really care about the castle after all, so why should she care about the measly dungeon when she already has a camp for her political prisoners? Something was off.

Dirk felt a slight tingle up his spine - someone or something was behind him. He quickly turned around.

“D-d-don’t move!” From the shadows, he could see a small figure pressed behind the other wall as his eyes adjusted against the dark cell. Male perhaps, weak judging from form and habitat, and probably not the ally of the empress too he clearly has no reason to be.

“I’m not here to hurt you” Dirk began in honesty. Something about the figure seemed quite familiar. Perhaps it was the silhouette or the voice.

“You’re here for Jane... aren’t you?” the figure spoke, his voice suddenly frantic “Please! hear me out! you’ve got to save her?”

“Save her?” Dirk repeated. What would a heiress need saving for? isn’t she the one who passed all the ridiculous rules and regulations? isn’t she the one who ordered the execution of the people? the one who singlehandedly re-opened the slave market - something Derse had just successfully curbed not so long ago - why would a heiress need saving? “More importantly” Dirk continued, “who are you to be on such intimate terms with the heiress?”

The cell became quiet all of a sudden as the prisoner took the question. It was a curious sense of quiet. the kind that urged him to be restless as the figure mulled about it.

“Her only friend” the figure in the shadows replied, “please” He said again “she’s just an innocent young lass!”

“Innocent?” Dirk laughed dryly “tell that to all the dead she killed.” he said. Underneath his pointy shades, his eyes are humorless. “You obviously don’t know how many innocents she ordered to their doom -”

“Codswallop!” the figure suddenly yelled cutting off Dirk’s speech, “stop prattling about with such preposterous claims!” and in a calmer voice, he continued. “You do misunderstand of the circumstance pushed onto her. You don’t know her as I did...” at this Dirk could make out that he was gulping a deep breath “However I request for a talk before you make that irrational, overzealous decision of killing her.”

Dirk blinked. He let the plea sit for a while as he recounted the patrols and the time frames of all the possible moments of assassination. He still had plenty of time tonight. No one had raised the alarms yet and he still had plenty of irons in the fire if the situation calls for it. Making his resolution, he leaned against the wall behind him and raised his eyebrow.

“Well?” he began “You have about ten minutes. Start talking.”


	7. Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A (not so) surprising encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (belated) new years! *pops a party cracker*

“You know...” The stranger began, “this probably would be easier if we had an exchange of introductions for formalities and what not,”

“I’ll pass” Dirk replied “Now talk... before I change my mind”

“Okey doke” the stranger shifted Dirk could see the shadow move towards him slowly... no threatening body language emanated from the fellow prisoner. “I probably should scooch over there a bit. Boy! Who knew conversing at such a distance can become so tedious?” the stranger laughed cheerily at that last comment. Which Dirk thought was strange. Still, he let the prisoner approach him. After all he was armed and the prisoner was not.

Underneath the sparse moonlight, the prisoner’s face looked strangely familiar. The face appeared starved - nothing new if one were to be in prison. His dark hair was matted, tangled in some places, almost reached shoulder length. His garb was tattered and torn. Dirk had seen many prisoners like this in his missions and life experiences so that was nothing weird.

Yet the prisoner’s clear green eyes are still with that spark of life even Dirk rarely saw from the nobles who were so ‘better off’ than the poor. With his blessing, Dirk could sense an unbroken spirit from him. He could feel the prisoner’s energy emanate from the core. It was refreshing, soothing after so many broken things he saw within the years of the resistance.

Suddenly Dirk remembered where he had seen the face. Granted, he was still a child back then but his memories are clearer than most. He remembered it was when his brother took him to the Crocker palace for his graduation from the guardsmen training, he had seen him again at a certain royal party, and the last time, at a soiree of some minor noble’s mansion.

“I -” He was at a sudden loss for words. Dirk had to stop himself before he spoke again. What if he was wrong? Hadn’t the declaration announced that none of the royal family - save for the heiress - survived? If that weren’t true, the implications of this would be astronomical. His lips suddenly felt dry. “You’re the - ” he began.

“Yeah... yeah I am” The stranger replied. The prisoner was a lost prince not just any prince, he was _the_ prince. The first son of Prince James and the first cousin to the heiress. Dirk was sure of it. Even with his unkempt state, his face looked fairly similar to the common facial features he had seen with in the royal family. But how did he survive?

“I’m shocked that you’d still recognise me for my title! Who would have thought the only bedraggled prisoner was the prince!”

“Your Highness -” Dirk began.

“Oh, none of those mind boggling titles!” The prince cut him off “I’m Jake.”

“Jake,” Dirk continued as if he wasn’t interrupted. “How did you survive?”

The prince laughed uncertainly. “well...” he began “I suppose that’s a good place to start the story.” he motioned Dirk to sit with him.

“I was ten when it happened.” Jake began. “A confused wee lad amongst the chaotic massacre of the royal party. Few of the guests have survived .Those who did eventually got carted off to the strange camps or worse.”

“It was beyond my comprehension then, but the one who had saved my was probably the Great Empress herself. Ironic how enemies suddenly become saviours that Condesce...” Jake trailed off lost in thought “This brings me back to the request we have discussed before.”

“The heiress?” Dirk voiced “What of her?”

“Jane was -” Jake stopped before continuing again, “Before these discombobulating events occurred, Jane was a sweet young  lass, gentle, kind, very cheerful. I was often appointed as her playmate due to our closeness in age. Due to this sudden disposition, we became fairly fast friends.”

“She never had a mother. Her royal highness had passed away long before due to childbirth complications. So the king eventually took another bride thinking that Jane should have a strong mother figure to look up to. I think we were about seven or eight back then. He eventually courted a beautiful lady - Betty or as we know her now, The blasted Empress. She was the one who changed everything.”

“Jane was enamoured with Betty, ever since she’s arrived into court. She was ecstatic when they found a common interest between them: baking. There was nothing wrong with such bonding of course. However, as her only friend I felt it strange for her to have such a peculiar change to fall unto her personality. I didn’t question it back then and had only accepted it as a result of a renewed mother and child relationship after a good play session.”

“Jane became distant. She started spouting strange ideologies, some of them horrifying and terrible, all of them impossible to an eight - year old to even consider. She became what could be described as emotionless. She was impassive to everything around her, responding if only she was asked to respond. I hadn’t noticed the change as much - who knows what the Condescension did to her back then? She started distancing from me - like I said completely peculiar.”

“after the coup, the Empress kept me imprisoned here, in this cell hold. Perhaps as a favor for Jane. I shudder to think otherwise of other consequences. She held us as hostages to our own kingdom.” Jake took a breath before continuing.

“Jane isn’t evil.” He began again. “She was also one of the people under the Condesce’s immediate vicinity. She was only serving the purpose of a figurehead of the kingdom. Every action the immediate public saw... All of it was the Condesce’s work. She was in all of the laws Jane passed, always pulling those treacherous strings she had so easily planted in her during their ‘bonding’ sessions prior to the fall -”

“She was hypnotised.” Dirk summarized “by the Condescension?”

“Yup.” Jake answered “I guess the long winded diatribe isn’t going to cut it so I guess I’ll skip all those unnecessary parts and get to the point.”

“There were times when she visited me. Times when she wasn’t such a cruel being under the vast influence of her stepmother. She would bring things with her. Blankets, new haircuts, extra food, but that would all be gone when the condesce found out that the slip happened.”

“Even when I was imprisoned, I became her only friend, her confidant. She tells me these things she had been manipulated to do, the laws she was forced to pass, really the guilt that was wracking inside her, everything the Condesce did, she talked to me about them.Those misdeeds  that weren’t even from her in the first place, all of that, she would have to bear. She told them to me in her lucid state.”

Dirk was silent, He felt his mind processing his new findings. He felt that the puzzle he tried to piece had only gotten bigger once more. It was a moment before he spoke again “what did she tell you?”

“Many things” Jake replied. his tone forced. “she was often distraught from her recent memories. It’s painful to see all of this happen and descend on her” his tone suddenly turned fierce along with is expression “I’m just so frustrated that I can’t do anything for her. I really don’t give a damn about the Condesce. What I truly want right now is for Jane to finally have peace in her mind. If that meant ripping that goddamn Empress a new one, it’s all for the better.”

The prince took a deep breath before continuing “She used to revert back to her old self so easily back then. The interval of her slipping has now decreased. I fear... I fear that one day I shall find her as an empty shell of herself. Jane had promised that she would fight back, but I know of her weariness... I can see it. She is starting to lose hope”.

Jake stopped again this time he faced dirk directly eye to eye. “so I beg you, please don’t kill Jane. It’s not the one at fault.”

The silence stretched uncomfortably as Dirk reasoned with his thoughts. His head swam with new possibilities  and outcomes.

“You said that she was hypnotised.”” he finally began, “ is there anyway she could be released from the trance?”

“It’s her diadem” Jake began “every time her trance was broken, it was always started with her not wearing her usual red diadem. I suppose if you remove it, she would recover and become normal again.”

“I’ve heard enough of the situation” Dirk spoke after a sudden consideration.

“Have you changed your mind?

“I can assure you no harm from me will come to her” Dirk replied as he moved towards the prison door’s lock with his lock picks. “I’m also assuming that you also yearn the freedom outside the walls -”

“Oh god yes” Jake replied suddenly beaming at the thought.

“-but” Dirk continued as he fiddles with the lock, “ if you want a decent chance of survival, I suggest you stay here till I return.”

“Jane should probably be in her room by now” Jake mused thoughtfully. “If not, she would probably be in the library.”There was a click signifying that Dirk had successfully unlocked the heavy prison door.

“Thanks” Dirk grunted as he pushed the door aside, his fears finally confirmed. He had needed more time to think of his next move against the Condesce and her pawns, and the chat was exactly what he was looking for.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does one even write a good Jake? |||OTL  
> This is probably the last chapter I will post during winter break (I'm working on another one. I'll try and see if I could release another chapter but it could be unlikely).  
> I'll probably be doing more world building in the mean time about blessings and what not on the meanwhile during college and perhaps revise or create new drafts of new chapter.


	8. Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the reader suffers through a long dialogue

John felt like he’d just went through ten rounds with a bear in a boxing match. He hurt all over and he was pretty sure he could easily out hibernate a bear at this rate.

But more importantly he felt alarmed. He didn’t recognise the room he woke up in. Where was he? What happened? Did he faint? There were so many questions spinning in his mind. He felt a faint sense of panic alongside the urge to actually hibernate. He needed to make sure that he’s actually safe from whatever that thing is. Where is this place?

John couldn’t see much from his current view, save for the dusty wooden ceiling. So he tried to prop himself up with some success (he also tried to ignore the pain and the manly tears. Tears? What tears? Nope they aren’t there). He could at least see the area better. The crackling he had heard earlier belonged to a small fireplace.  A black pot hung over the fire. John could hear the contents bubbling. mmm... stew.

John’s stomach growled appreciatively.

“You’re awake.”the familiar voice of the stranger began “Man... I thought you’d be gone for good”

John jumped from the cot (flopped would probably be a better description with his leg and all) startled. He felt his butt hit the hard packed floor.

Ouch.

“Woah, woah. slow down dude!” the stranger spoke again his tone expressed a slight surprise as John managed an awkward crabwalk away from him despite his pain. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Where am I?” John stuttered, “Ow!” he winced as he felt his feet give way from him. His foot had hit the edge of the cot frame. It was his twisted foot which the stranger must have kindly dressed if first aid was any source of indicator of the stranger’s personality. Wracked with pain fell on his butt for the second time of the night with an “oof!”

“Finished?” the stranger’s tone wasn’t hostile, if John had to guess he sounded pretty amused. perhaps he hadn’t seen a klutzy move for a long time. Guh! Why is he doing clumsy thing in front of a stranger? John felt a flush of embarrassment flare across his face. Shit.  

The said stranger offered a hand at him. “Can you stand?” he asked “or should I move you to the cot? You don’t look so good”

John took the strange guardsman’s hand and together they manage to prop John on the cot. Despite his lean physique, the stranger’s actually pretty strong. John observed.

“Wait here.” The stranger said. He walked away from John and after a momentary pause and returned with a chair. Which he set beside the bed facing John. The stranger returned later with two bowls of steaming stew. John accepted the warm contents appreciatively and together they ate with a comfortable silence.

“I’m gonna guess that you want the stereotypical standard explanation or something” The stranger began after he had set aside the two empty bowls. “You know, the standard procedure within a hero’s saga when he gets knocked out. The dude would probably wake up later and be like ‘dude what in the world happened here?’ And then there would be a person who appointed as his guide addressing him as the ‘young grasshopper’. Usually a wise old elder or something maybe someone who uses ancient proverbs with nature shit in them. maybe he also addresses people with awesome nature metaphors too. That said elder probably had some deep history and shit all badass like. He probably wanted the hero to go on some spiritual journey. Do some spiritual shit. And it’s going to be hella rad. So yeah, ask away young grasshopper. I’m going to be the badass old man. Yes, it is me.” The guardsman seemed to like his own voice. Or maybe he’s just so used to talking to himself. John wondered if sometimes that meant arguments with themselves.

“So what about a drink?”

“Oh - Uhhh... sorry?” John says blinking too lost in the stranger’s monologue and in his thoughts to pay attention to the sudden break from the path.

“Do you want a drink?” The stranger repeated. “I’ve got some apple juice, tea... actually I’m not sure how old the tea leaves are... nevermind, Coffee hmm.... also not sure if that’s expired or not... maybe it’s best if you don’t touch that it has white stuff on it, ... and water I guess...” even in the barracks (John thinks it’s some sort of barrack.) The stranger kept his sunglasses on. It felt like some sort of mask. Maybe the stranger’s just as nervous as he is, John realised.

“Just water please” John replied feeling a bit more at ease than the moments before. “I’m John Egbert” he introduced himself, “What’s your name?”

“Dave.” The guardsman replied “ Dave Strider.” and with that brief introduction he left John to his own devices once more. Dave returned later with two brown earthen mugs.

“Here. Water.” He says thrusting one mug at John.

He muttered a thanks as he accepted the mug before he rotated his chair and sat on it leaning forwards at the back of the chair. John still felt disorientated. Everything he had remembered before he lost consciousness all of it seemed like a dream. It looked way too crazy to be something within his life. Too farfetched to be real. Had there actually been monsters with yellowy tusks? What about that freakish wind?

“What you did there was reckless as shit” Dave began, “summoning a gigantic wind? Couldn’t you do something less fancy? Like maybe trip him with the wind? Do you faint every time you use that or what?”

“I - what?” John felt like his brain was jammed like that one time the grinding mill back at Prospit caught some sort of rodent beneath it’s gears - a rabbit perhaps. Every new word Dave spoke didn’t connect with the previous chain of already confusing word. His mind drew a blank. “I started a storm?”

There was an uncomfortable pause “You mean, you don’t know what your blessing was?” Dave asked, even with his expression was hidden by those oval shades, his tone indicated some sort of incredulity. It was as if John had suggested that the sky was green or that pigs could sprout wings and fly.

“Blessing?” John repeated. He felt dumb. “What blessing?”

Dave paused again “You don’t know what a blessing is” he finally said, his disbelief obvious.

“Unless It's some sort of god given favor or protection... no.” John replied feeling slightly frustrated at the situation.“So I’m assuming that it’s neither of the two definitions I have suggested” John saw Dave tense slightly, his sense of humor wiped off his face like he had sobered up. John ran a head through his hair and bit his bottom lip worried.

“So you’re from ‘up there’... aren’t you?” The guardsman finally said. His words seemed final. John felt his annoyance snap,

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole freaking time!” John could have sworn that the air in the room sighed in exasperation with his reply. “Jeez!”

“There aren’t blessings up there.” Dave confirmed. The statement sounded foreign in his tongue, maybe it’s the way that he had said it. “No weird shenanigans, no unexpected tremors of rage, no sudden sparkle of light?”

“Nope.” John says, “not at all.”

“I’m assuming that the people don’t summon radical and violent breezes and leap through their metaphorical time girlfriends?”

“Yup” John says feeling his impatience starting to spark.

“Damn! that must be boring. Like shit... what do you do all day? stare at the walls until the paint peels?” Dave spoke his face showed amazement.

“Hey!” John protested slightly panicking “at least MY world made sense! Look... all I’m asking for is a slight explanation. What’s going on here?”

“Wow, dude, you need to chill. Don’t get too worked up man. No one’s goin’ to pounce you or anything.” Dave says his voice soothing, quiet. It felt different like he was slipping into some sort of accent. “ I’m gettin’ to it” there was a slight pause “Actually,” he began again. This time his voice was normal. “maybe you should shoot be a question... just so I know where to start.”

“Did I cause the Windy thing?”

“Yes” John could see a slight smirk lifting at the corner of the passive face. His tone was dry “ that ‘windy thing’ as you have so _aptly_ named is your own creation. It was done by your blessing, unconsciously as a defense or a mood reflex or not ... probably. Of course unless the ogre just decided to roll over and die on it’s own.” At this point Dave was studying his face as if he was searching for something. The moment felt long... maybe a bit longer than what John felt comfortable. Was he really that strange?

“I’ve never seen a person born with the blessing of Breath before.” Dave remarked finally, “Much less a survivor of the drop from above.”

“Is that bad?” John felt even conscious of himself if that wasn’t possible already. “The Breath... thingy I mean...” he trailed off unsure.

“Nah. It’s not bad. It’s just rare, people who possess control over Elementals are often hard to find for some reason. Breath especially.”

“Okay....so there are many other blessings too huh? What’s yours”

“Me?” Dave asked as if he didn’t expect the question at all “Uh. I’m blessed with time. What do you want to know? My ex- and I have a rocky relationship. Being in relationship with time isn’t as savvy as they portray it to be in the literature and the plays out there. I guess I can travel through time and be anywhere I want as long as I can sustain it with energy. But it’s stupid. It’s a really itchy blessing to have. Only the itch is colossal. Shit. The itch probably stretches all across my timeline or something. Traveling is like scratching. Makes the itch better. Makes me feel like I’m grounded down and all that crap.”

“So why don’t you travel?” John asks. Oh man if he did have the ability, he would have traveled back and tell himself not to even attend the party that had resulted to his unexpected journey in the crater. Hell, he might just travel around just to play pranks on people.

“Because if I do travel too much... cause too much complications and paradoxes, I might risk dying.” Dave replied.

The room went silent.

“Aw man!” Dave suddenly spoke “It’s alright! I don’t mean instant death of course. Time’s a confusing thing. It’s like trying to draw a whole web of things without paint or something. The point is I would have to mess with quite a lot of things for that to happen. I would have to Fuck Up Royally to be dead and usually, I’m not that stupid.”

“Oh” John sighed in relief. suddenly, yesterday’s vanishing display Dave had demonstrated to ward off the Ogre seemed less grave. It still is dangerous, but at least he’s not dying from his time powers that’s for sure. John wouldn’t know what to do if Dave suddenly dropped dead in front of him.

“But yeah there are other blessings given to Dersians when they’re young at their infancy. No one knows how to determine these abilities but there are attempts. Which accidentally generated a couple of radical hilarious attempts and crackpot theories in the process. It probably made the most insane of the lot question the sanity of the theory or something. It’s kind of like a mishmash blend of logical speculation and random crap packed into a clusterfuck of theology. But the most famous and antiquated theory to date and the most well know would probably be the twelve ‘Canonical’ Blessings.” At the word canonical Dave added legit air quotes.

“Why is it ‘Canonical’?” John asked, Imitating the air quotes Dave had put on the word earlier.

“Because it’s biased as fuck. Only the winners of the war of chaos get to write the history and shit. Amongst the cliche filled battlefield with dusty visibility and dramatically slain bodies, are these twelve people who probably sat on a throne made of dead bodies or something. These twelve survived the war and one way or the other met each other and decided to collaborate and make a functioning society out of the bullshit they faced. That makes them important for Derse’s beginning. So only the twelve get penned down in the history because of that, which means that their blessings get to become ‘canonical’ even if they didn’t want it to be so. Which is a totally uncool thing for a person born with the non-canon blessing. Imagine the awkward moments they have to spend on their family dinners on the holidays getting scrutinized by their family members. The twelve Founders really fucked up there. Don’t let anyone say otherwise.”

John paused. If the blessings haven’t been as recent as he thought is was, why is he, a Prospitian, receiving it the first time he landed here?, His thoughts suddenly reached an impossible point. “Is the blessing hereditary?” he began. No it couldn’t be possible. “Cuz, I can imagine the first person who discovered that he or she had a blessing and freaking out over it and stuff.” John saw Dave grinning at him.

“Yes and no. Specific blessings do not pass on from father to son or mother to daughter or whatever, you get the picture. But there’s always a blessing in the said child born from them no matter how different it is from their parents.”

“Okay.... the ability to carry a blessing is included.” John says slightly in disbelief, “does this mean what I think it means?” he asked the guardsman shakily

He heard Dave sigh quietly. “Yeah it might mean what you thought it meant... are you sure that the people up there don’t have blessings?”

“Have you seen any survivors from the fall?” John deadpanned.

“Touche Egbert. Touche.”

“Dad never told me he was from the crater” John says amazed. He remembered his father saying that he came from another town, but he never said where. John hadn’t thought of it much then. Now it seemed like maybe his father could have hidden so many things from him. He felt slightly upset from his thoughts.

“You guys are lucky.” Dave says as he walked over from his chair  and sat on John’s cot right beside him. His hair was still wet from something, John observed. Perhaps from a wash because he smells nice. Like soap. “There was a war not so long ago and a tyrant still ruling the place and running the show. Your dad probably made a smart call leaving like that. He probably looked at the state of the burning and shriveling monarchy and went ‘Nope. Fuck that shit’ and went up the wall without another word in the dead of the night, the skies lit with cool explosions and awesome epic music in the background composed by an orchestra of pirates and outlaws. he probably went out with a bang too kicking his pursuers off the wall with his feet or with his super awesome blessing or something. You know, judging from the looks of it, he probably did one of those things at least. ”

John tried not to laugh from the narration when he realised that Dave was trying to comfort him in his awkward way. At least the first person he met in Derse was alright.

“He’d probably be worried about me right now,” John says  suddenly feeling miserable. “I should get going. Figure out how to get to him or something.”

“Not possible.” Dave suddenly announced “At least not until you heal your twisted leg.... It’s too dangerous”

“Right” John replied sensing that there's something Dave had chosen not to say. “I guess i'll have to wait for that. But after my leg heals, I’m going” John felt a sense of determination set between each word. He suddenly looked at  Dave, a person he’d just met tonight, his face serious.“Will you help me?”

“Sure. Got nothing to do anyway” Dave replied. His face suddenly turning impassive like the first time he’d seen him when he had tried to interrogate him of his purpose. He’s closing up against him, John realised as the Guardsman stood up. In the firelight, his hair looked white like snow.

“Go to sleep already” Dave spoke softly “Don’t you have some healing to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Dave is quite refreshing.  
> Holy crapping mackerels! 600 hits? I might just cry from happiness right now.  
> This is the last chapter before I forge on with my college work and all that stuff... I'll try to work on some chapters in the mean while and world build.  
> And to those who have come so far... Thank you so much for reading!  
> (wow... that sounded like a good bye... it's not a good bye from the fic)  
> yeah either way... I feel like I'm rambling now so... I guess I'll end this note and stuff  
> please enjoy the chapter!


	9. Liberations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hard to write Jake's speech patterns especially if you don't get half the (American? English?) references they throw at you ORZ  
> Beta'ed by Onnoff

Dirk wasn’t proud of what he did.

But there wasn’t any time to think about that. One of the guards had raised the alarm. Dirk already heard them scrambling over towards the cell like eager spiders in for the kill by the time he he pushed the unconscious body of the Heiress through the sole cell window. The same window he broke and used as an entrance earlier.

“They’re coming” he announced , his voice was steady and showed no indication of the alarm he felt.

“Holy fucking mackerel! What in the dickens did you do to her?!” Jake’s muffled voice came from above, already out of the cell.

“Just pull her out. She’ll be fine. Look, there’s no time.” Dirk heard a grunt and felt the weight of the slack unconscious body lighten slightly. The  incarceration probably reduced the lost prince to a weak skeleton of what he was supposed to be, his mind noted unhelpfully. Dirk pushed the Heiress through the window, gripped the window’s ledge, and climbed through the cell in near effortlessness, suddenly glad of the excessive weight training in his regimen.

“Okay so,” Jake spoke, words seemed to fly a mile a minute.“By Jove! I can’t believe we escaped! Golly gee! It’s been a real long time since I set foot out into this place!” The prince took a deep breath and spun around looking at the cell and then at the overgrown garden ahead of them. “Bravo! Stranger! you’ve done the impossible!”, Jake did a bit of a jump. Before realising that they were still in a situation (not unlike a like a newborn baby colt learning to walk). Jake took another breath and faced Dirk, who paid no mind to these disturbingly endearing actions. Nope. Not at all. ”Now that we have liberated a un-hypnotised Jane, whatever do we do now?”

“Now?” Dirk crouched down, lifts the limp body of the sleeping princess on  the stone floor and slung her body on his back like a sack of potatoes. It wasn’t elegant, but it works “Now we run.”

 

“But where to?” Jake asked again.

“Save your breath,” Dirk shot back, not unkindly, “just... follow me... I know a place.”

And so they ran, rushing through the lush green garden, crossing through the courtyard. Dirk was suddenly regretting  his decision to one man the whole entire operations. Too many uncontrolled variables, yet this is a job he only trusts himself to do. Jake, due to his weakened state, kept falling behind and stumbling. He wasn’t doing so well either carrying a live hostage like a painted target, susceptible to harm. The Heiress wasn’t heavy, but she wasn’t light either, and she definitely reduced his agility.

Dirk wasn’t armed either, well not as sufficiently as he hoped for anyway. He had  thought that this would only be an assassination attempt and traveled pretty light, but now he’s got two huge liabilities, two more people to protect.

Fortunately, the guards seem to be disorganized thanks to his sudden unannounced appearance. Their formation and ranks are disorganized and littered with missing people - a disadvantage Dirk could definitely utilize in this tight situation.

“The prisoners are escaping!” He heard one of them cry from the dungeons broken cell window just as they headed out of the gates. (No shit, dumbass, Dirk had to bite back, because that was just way too unprofessional and un- assassin-like)

“Bollocks!” Jake cursed, “we’ve been noticed.”

“Duly noted,” Dirk deadpanned him. “Let’s focus on getting the hell out of here.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” Jake muttered.

Dirk couldn’t even dignify an answer to that. Besides, he’s got more important things to do waiting for him.

The castle gates loomed over the three of them like the intimidating structure it is. It’s heavy wooden gates and cumbersome mechanisms reminded Dirk of an old grandfather clock inflicted by a serious case of arthritis. While Dirk could think up about several hundred more ideas to fortify the castle, the gates are enough to trap the three of them inside.

The guards are going to definitely close the gates to trap them in the castle, It was the most simple and effective strategy to contain them without losing any soldiers, but it was also the strategy that he’d have to evade from if he wanted Jake and her highness to make it out alive.

“Jake,” Dirk glanced at the prince’s light form. “Do you think you can do a sprint?”

“I should think so,” the lost prince replied, ”what are you up to?”

“When I give you my signal, you run as fast as you can away from the palace and over the bridge. Don’t look back till you get over that huge-ass bridge”

“Right. Will do. What about you, stranger?” Jake considered, “what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to disarm them.”

 

The two came close to the gates when Dirk noticed that the guards were also competing in this life or death foot race, it’s just the matter of who gets there first. The guards were still lagging behind them with their heavy decorative armor and their equipment. The fact that Dirk had a head start helped significantly, and it seemed like the guards are catching up. So he slowed his run to a slight jog and waited for all of them to approach.

“Keep going!” He shouted at Jake.

Dirk drew out an oddly shaped glass ball. It was made in such a way that the two liquids never touched - one of Dirk and his fellow friend’s creations. He equipped a slingshot from his other hand. With a practiced ease, he placed the the bottle in the cradle, pulled, and let go.

Even before it had landed, Dirk knew it would hit its mark. The glass bottle exploded on impact against the stone pavement of the garden. Which set off a puff of orangey smoke at the guards and sent them into a flutter of coughs, Dirk caught up with Jake and handed him one of the rags he has for such situations.

“Cover your nose and run!” Dirk told him as he lobbed another glass ball at the guards. “Now!”

The lost prince shot off  like a flash of light, surprisingly fast. Dirk followed him away from the spreading cloud of the orange smoke screen he launched earlier before taking another glass ball -this time, with different looking liquids in them- and lobbed it against the disoriented guards. The light poison gas should slow these people down without injuring them too much.

Dirk ran faster to catch up with Jake, hopefully before he does anything naive or reckless and endanger them all (he’d had too much of these experiences with the new resistance mission runners and would like to avoid future mishaps thank you very much).

Fortunately, Jake didn’t go far. Dirk found him hiding in one of those empty alleys of the main street behind some random debris. Dirk mentally awarded him points for his smartness.

“Hey,” Dirk motioned, quietly so that he didn’t startle Jake too much. “It’s not over yet. We’ve still got quite a way to go.”

The only indications that Jake has heard him was an small, almost imperceptible nod from him. Jake seemed like the kind to cheerfully chatter an ear off, especially when he’d been isolated for so long. Dirk had expected a boat load of commentary from him if his previous behavior was any indication. Still, perhaps it wasn’t his business to interfere with whatever turmoil he’s facing now (because this looks like some heavy duty turmoil. It’s definitely got to be some angsty stuff). For a person who would usually talk his ear off on any other occasion, it was surprisingly unsettling for him to be silent.

So together the two (and an unconscious body that’s starting to weigh him down heavily on Dirk’s shoulders) walked in silence under the darkened alleys.

But oh man, the silence was uncomfortable.

“It’s so different,” Jake began uncertainly. “I’ve been thinking, wishing for an escape for so many years. I - no - we finally did it... but it’s so different from what I imagined.” Dirk felt Jake’s spirit dim to a flicker not unsimilar to the other people out there. Without the odd glowing spirit Jake had a few seconds ago, The oppressive feeling of broken despair began to take root at his exposed heart. Quickly he closed off his mind before the impact of the residue of broken spirits hit him, but not before he got some notes of despair under his defense.

“Things have changed under Condescension’s rule,” Dirk spoke carefully. “ Welcome to her world, buddy. Next stop: Destruction.” He heard a small laugh from Jake, but even that was shaky.

“And here I thought you possess the sense of humor of a tin can.”

“... wasn’t the appropriate time,” Dirk muttered shrugging. “We’re almost there now, let’s keep moving.” Internally he felt a sense of relief having averted a messy crisis.

“It appears that the coast is clear... probably,” Jake whispers. “No guards in sight, no sounds, probably not a trap... Shall we move out?”

Dirk blinked, it appeared that he’d once more underestimated the experience Jake seem to possess. He made a note to record Jake’s learning curve and compare it to the statistics he’d gather from the other members of the resistance. Jake was already looking left and right, using the right sort of footsteps to muffle his noise, and subconsciously on guard aware of his surroundings from his stance. Oh, he was going to get interesting results for sure.

Dirk gave the area another glance, confirming what he’d already assessed from Jake. He motioned the prince over to follow him as he adjusted his grip on the sleeping Heiress. His shoulders are feeling stiff... they’d better find shelter soon.

Dirk entered one of the non descript empty and haunted shops, ignoring the bums, the sopor/grystallite addicts, and the criminals, the party ascended the stairs . Dirk kept going up the floors until they reached the attic.

“I hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Dirk says.

“We’re going to jump over roofs?” Jake asked, his tone showing both incredulousness and excitement both at the same time.

“We don’t need to,” Dirk opened one of the attic windows. “The buildings here are knitted tightly. Just take bigger steps over the gaps.” He climbed out of the window and offered a hand to the still uncertain prince. “You coming or not?”

Jake took his hand, and together they began maneuvering across the rooftops.

“Now what?” Jake asked as they crossed, minding to lower his voice to a whisper, “What happens if we run out of roofs? We can’t just cross the roofs from the other streets!” The drop itself would be deadly.

“The good thing about roofs is that most people never tend to look up to check for humans. They don’t expect us to be up here.” Dirk replied as he crouched signaling Jake to do the same. “Those guards should have already called for support. They should be searching for us soon.”

“You want to read their movements?”

“Of course,” Dirk blinked. “I wouldn’t want a blind chase to happen would I? We need to manipulate the guards later with decoys and lead them astray, preferably as far from us as possible.” He’d already marked out the routes to direct those guardsmen towards (probably route three and fifty eight just to make them feel like they found a lead.) He’d send orders later to proceed with the plan if things go to plan.

“Bloody incredible,” Jake’s posture suddenly slumped, suddenly worn out. He sat down on the roof along with Dirk. Perhaps the fight had gone out of the prince, perhaps the run has more than exhausted his meager stamina. Either way he fell into silence once more, a silence miles more comfortable than the one before. Shaking the thought away, Dirk bent over the ledge and started observing the men below.

The guards all looked fairly young and looked like they had only graduated from the academy recently, with their sole brass medals proudly pinned to their chest. They walked with a swagger, proud, as if that accomplishment itself should make the world fear them. Most of their beards were sparsely grown stubbles (although Dirk did see some impressively grown moustaches on a small number of the men), their well muscled lean builds indicated that they were in their late teens to their early twenties. The fact that they didn’t act as if they were unfamiliar to their own bodies further solidifies that observation. They know what their limits are. Most of the weapons they have are standard issued. So that meant that these soliders hadn’t tasted actual battle or killed an real person yet. Those that have different swords looked too fancy to be of any real use in battle. These people probably came from rich families, as some of them seem to have an air, an expectation shown in their body language that the world should run around them accordingly. All this meant that they all probably have little to no experience yet. All in all, it seemed that the grand palace was understaffed with guards - a confirmation that Dirk had already suspected.

“Those guards are newcomers. There’s a high chance that they haven’t honed their killer instincts yet,” Dirk explained. “It’s probably a waste of time if we make a long detour... so follow me.”

They ran over the rooftops and reached the end of the roofs in the street before climbing down the dilapidated building’s attic, and down the stairs. There, they exited through the building’s backdoor, dodging the humans in the buildings once more to face where Dirk knew the slums began.

Not that Dirk would like to use this entrance, but the rule of thumb states that you have to enter and exit the headquarters in radically different entrances and the most obscure routes so that no one knows where the headquarters are. Those rules were made for obscurity, as a defense system and to outing spies and traitors who knew of only one of the routes and not the others.

Of course, every rule has its exceptions, Dirk rationalized, after all it isn’t every day that one gets a willing prince and an unconscious Heiress. The hostages could count as a valuable source of information and potential great allies for the resistance.

They crossed the debris wordlessly. The scenery changed fading from buildings to scraps and ruins pieced together by half hearted attempts of the ones who don’t dare to hope. Dirk felt the sharp pangs again in his armor.

“Cor!” he heard Jake whisper as they trudged through slums fidgeting, his footsteps seemed to stop.

“Keep walking, you’re acting too conspicuous.” Dirk muttered before taking Jake’s hand and dragging him.

“We’re carrying a limp body, I’m pretty sure that that raises alarms on people’s checklist.” Jake pointed out, but he started walking anyway.

Fair point, Dirk’s traitorous mind seemed to reply as they waded through the slums.

“So,” Jake began again, “now that we’ve escaped - or rather - are in the process of the biggest escape in the history of Derse - what’s next up?” There was a short paused. “I mean,” Jake fumbled, “I honestly haven’t the foggiest idea of what I want to do even though I’ve imagined libraries of scenarios in escaping. And really, I’ve got nowhere to go, or whom to turn to, or even where to start. And I’m sure I’ll need to catch up -” Jake rambled.

Dirk stopped walking and studied the prince once more. As uncertain and lost as Jake sounded, there was still a bit of determination there. Although his spirits seemed to be flattened, it’s not entirely broken from the impact of the world around him.

“I’m going to tell you the short truth.” Dirk decided, as he motioned Jake to walk once more. “You can ask for the longer one after this whenever.”

“The Great Condecension’s got her claws everywhere on Derse. What was once wonderful now fell into ruins. Things went to shit from there. The Heiress has told you about the laws she has passed, that was only a mug from a rum casket. The consequences of the laws are harsh. And it’s these consequences that’s impacting the people of the kingdom.” Dirk paused.

“That was the original reason why I decided to assassinate the Heiress. Without the figurehead, Condy would be immobilized for a while. There would be an opening for the people to revolt. Of course, that’s before you intervened.” Dirk heard an intake of breath before quickly inserting, “I’m not saying that it’s bad. You’ve saved me from killing an innocent victim. But yeah, in short that’s what you missed, a crumbling society, and an assassination attempt. And as for the future... I think we need you.”

“We?”

“I’m not operating alone you know.”

“Ooh, so a secret society?”

“... It’s a resistance.”

“So... this secret society of secretness needs me?” Jake was more or less excited... way more excited than a normal person would be actually “What for?”

“You’re a important variable in this game we’re playing. You’re the next heir in line despite the fact that everyone thinks you’re dead, with a blood specialist, we could confirm your lineage and reinstate the monarchy and restore-”

“Hold up! Hold up!” Jake blustered. “Are you bloody kidding me? I don’t have what it takes to be king. I don’t have the education or the training for that. That’s Jane you’re talking about. I’ve been trapped in the dungeons for a long ass time, and I don’t fancy being a figurehead that I’ll probably become even if I do agree to this ridiculous arrangement.” He planted his hands against his hips. “I refuse to be manipulated into doing things. That’s how this catastrophic point started anyways.”

“Okay so you don’t want to be king, big deal, we can find another consenting leader.” Dirk managed a neutral shrug. “Anyways, that’s one of the possible outcomes. But yeah, it’s cool if you don’t want to rule. You’re still an important piece in this puzzle. A takeover is necessary to change the rule and right the wrongs that the Condesce has inflicted Derse with.”

“So you need me to join this clandestine secret society, as another member to defy the Great Condescension - the Crocker tyrant and her blood-red trident guards.”

“Yup.”

“Will this involve adventure, raiding, and ‘cloak and dagger’ shenanigans?”

“Most likely, yes,” Dirk replied.

“Great! Count me in!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I'll be posting several more chapters in this fic before starting my second term in college, so expect some more chapters to come along.  
> I apologize for my inconsistent way of posting chapters. Usually I would post them during the breaks and the vacations from college.   
> It's been a pretty busy summer, but i'll try to get the rest of the chapters up in time before college starts.


	10. Wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with another chapter.  
> Beta-ed by Onnoff (who also kindly suggested the chapter title thank you so much)

Because of his low supplies and his procrastination streak, Dave suddenly found himself apple juice-less and more importantly, food-less (the apple juice deserves it’s own category in important-ness). Alone, he might’ve survived for another day, but it’d be virtually impossible to feed both him and John at the same time.

_‘No time better than the present I guess’_ , Dave resolved.

_‘But what of John?’_ Dave thought, surely if he was to leave him alone for several hours John would be fine. But with the guards outside the fort (the ones he wasn’t supposed to know about who are stalking his every move), there’d probably be a high chance of them taking the bespectacled boy into question. Perhaps they’d reassign him to an even more remote position as a result - or even worse, put him under arrest seeing as he was already under enough suspicion already without ‘hiding’ and ‘supporting’ the so-called threats of the empire. He’s in pretty deep defcon surveillance shit already. It’d probably best not to give them the excuse to pursue him even more.

After much contemplation (and much staring at the sorrowfully empty cupboards, further into it’s deep empty void), he decided to tell John about the unexpected trip. It’d be easier said than done though, seeing as it’d probably have to take a bit of ... information filtering in order to do the job smoothly.

Dave closed the cupboard doors and walked through the cozy space of the bunker, stopping at John’s cot and sighed.

Said person was still sleeping, relaxed in his dreams, without a care in the world. John’s already messy head of unruly hair now looked  like it was going to defy physics, going in all and every direction. His expression was calm and relaxed, last night’s panic washed away by the waves of the Skaian depths like black and white sand drawings on the Checker Beach. Dave could almost see the metaphorical bubble of serenity forming around the sleeping form. One of these days, he’d have to squeeze the secret of the serene-ness, Instagram filters, and sparkles, out of the Zen-like boy (he must have had a secret ingredient somewhere to sleep so soundly). John’s lips, (pink, Dave noted) murmured something indistinguishable even by his sharp ears. The dark haired boy curled up against the pillow even more taking his blankets with him, unbothered by Dave’s presence. Dave was reminded of a shy baby armadillo he once saw in a lady’s arms during one of the parties the House of Striders held. The poor creature had been oohed and aahed so much by the obnoxious kids, it was a miracle it hadn’t dropped dead during the gathering itself (although he heard that it ended up as carriage roadkill two weeks later in the tabloid papers, but eh, it was cute).

He really didn’t want to wake John up. But he’d feel like a nasty creep if he didn’t do what he came here for. He decided to leave John a note instead, tied to John’s clenched fist (if he didn’t notice it, then there’s definitely something strange with him).

There was really nothing else he can do (without being creepy that is). Instead of fretting, he took his stereotypical grocery basket off the racks and officially start the day. He moved from one scaffolding tier to the other with ease making his way down to the markets like the many times he did before, leaping and taking short cuts when convenient.

It occurred to him five minutes later that John might not be able to read. Seriously, the chances of normal people being able to read was slim, especially with Derse’s well decomposed educating system and it’s brittle skeleton of what it was. So what was he thinking when he wrote the note? He’d have to hope that Prospit’s system of education would be stronger or else they’d be in deep shit, and he’d only had himself to blame. The second hand embarrassment he felt for himself was massive. Dave itched to time travel, just to deliver a punch and a slap to his own face, and tell his past self of this _obvious_ flaw in that oh so logical plan of his with his obligatory freebie lecture.

_‘Genius. Masterstroke.You deserve a  fucking medal,’_ a part of him taunted _. ‘Of course you’d fuck up the only chance to strike up a friendship of epic proportions to the only person who wouldn’t judge you for who you are. Just... great.’_

All this trouble just because he didn’t want to wake the kid up.

There was nothing he could do now, Dave sighed, resigned to his fate. He couldn’t just go back up again for a shit-load of reasons. First of all, that’d be a waste of energy. It would take eons of pain and another needless round up and down the stairs, and for what? A short piece of dialogue and a mysterious good for nothing advice? It’d also raise the suspicions from the spies - something he can’t do now that there was a vulnerable stranger in his house. By then the market would have ended anyway so it’d probably be a moot point before he could even reach the bunker entrance.

Dave carried on walking, pretending that the said thoughts hadn’t entered his mind just now, and that there absolutely aren’t strangers from Prospit hiding in his room now, nope. There’s nothing. His mind’s the void. Thoughts? What thoughts? There were none. He was just your average run-of-the-mill-cloaked-and-suspicious-looking-stranger going to the market, like all the cloaked people around here. Even suspicious strangers needed their supplies to sustain themselves.

The morning market is always arranged in front of The Founder’s Bridge - the one in front of the castle over the shopping district. Farmers, angler men, their wives, and hunters, gathered there to display their wares and their daily catches and haggle for the highest possible prices. Even after the Condescension’s rule, the market carried on, selling and negotiating wares of the trade. The market is eternal. If the world had ended, it would have kept on going, selling and peddling it’s wares to anyone and everyone they see. Debating and setting the fluctuating prices of eggs. It’s just their nature. Some things just never change.

Strangely, that was not the case today, as the market was set up away from the bridge. Away from the moat side and the mirror lakes and over in the front of the closed shopping district, its shopping stalls set over the old broken glass. However, the hubbub wasn’t in the market. Even the market was distracted. The stall owners were half assedly watching their wares, choosing instead to crane their necks to have a better look at the suspicious gathering crowd in front of the bridge where the markets used to be (what was with the swarming anyway?).

Dave decided to follow suit with the rabble, he decided to linger to the side of the crowd. Attracting attention to himself would be foolish, and as much as he wanted to see what was going on, he’d have to glean from the informat gossip here. With a bit of manoeuvring, he wove into one side of the crowd and caught some words. Interesting but irrelevant snippets, useless gossip of everyone that mattered and everything that is concerned of, and of course, taxes.

Stymied but determined, Dave lingered in the edge of the crowd in hopes for some inkling of what was all the hype about.

“Well, if it isn’t Strider,” a lazy feminine voice whispered behind his ear. “I should have known you’d be here...eventually.”

“I told you not to call me that, Rose.” He replied smoothly, parrying the jibe. “I’m still under that stupid house arrest, shout it all over town for those housewives why don’t you?”

“I find your lack of faith in me disturbing.” The white blonde replied just as smoothly as him. “Oh, why must you rain on my poor poor heart?” Even without looking at her, he could see his best buddy (Not that he would admit it to anyone. Ever.) and his cousin saying the entire line with her well practiced smirk and a waggle in her eyebrows.

“So,” Dave said casually looking at her. “Sup? It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

She hadn’t changed that dramatically in the last month, Her vampiric skin is still... vampiric, white as a sheet and impervious to the sun. Surprising, since she’d been introduced to the courier’s work which a involved a ton of field work. But again, it might be her blessing’s work. Ever since he’d known her, Rose always possessed a shadow around her, always unconsciously bending the sunlight away from herself. Her white blonde hair had grown slightly from her neatly trimmed bob, with stray locks kept out of her face by her trademark purple hair band.

“Yes, it has.” She replied, her tone dry. “I must say, three weeks, five days, and six hours, is certainly quite the record. You never write. I thought you were gone for good.”

Dave’s retort died at the back of his throat. Had it really been that long? He pushed back a rising wave of guilt from himself. Striders don’t show their emotions, and he wasn’t going to start now.

“I’m sorry... cousin,” he attempted to form a reply. “I’ll try to pop by soon. I’ve just been... occupied lately.” Rose made an amused teasing hum at this, but Dave quickly diverted the subject, “what’s with the commotion?” He asked. “It’s rare to see so many people in one place. They look like hungry Skaian piranhas” Dave added.

Rose fell silent as if she was contemplating something. Without a word, she pulled him to the side, a private alley between the unwatched market stalls (what is it with alleys? It’s going to be the first thing people check for shady looking stuff). Dave didn’t protest, he’d never seen her like this. Something must be really really wrong.

It was obvious that Rose was doing her field work. She wasn’t in her usual dark dress, that was the first giveaway. Dressed in a standard uniform -a official purple tunic with the white Dersite emblem of the moon - she looked just as uncharacteristic as a wolf wearing a lacy feminine bonnet. Her white hair hung limp from the odd amount of sweat from her forehead and the morning fog. She was clutching the purple courier’s sack like an unconscious decision (Rose would be so delighted to hear about that psychological information) as if she didn’t want the contents to spill over. Something big was definitely bothering her.

“Listen,” Rose began. “This morning, at the courier’s office, they handed us our new notices, freshly delivered from the printing press for the community boards. Everyone was told to post these posters everywhere.” Rose pulled out a sheet of paper from her messenger bag. “Well... see it for yourself.”

The moment Dave’s eyes laid on the paper he felt as if he’d been hit by the ogre yesterday with a punch to his guts. It felt like the world’s gears had jammed for a moment.

“Dirk...” Dave stared at the well replicated portrait if the notice “what...” He felt his hands, clammy, shook his head in disbelief. A wanted poster, again? Although it was nothing out of the ordinary. His brother had been convicted of treason, posters were posted everywhere for him, but that was years ago. And now? Wanted dead or alive? An award enough to buy out a seventh of Derse? Convicted of high treason?

“What. ” Dave began again. “What the Hell?” In a swift move, he crushed the sheet of paper and lobbed it into the darkest recesses of the alley.

He found Rose staring at his face- her violet eyes studying him genuinely concerned.

Dave slumped against the wall.

All was silent for a while, as Dave gathered his thoughts. It was a maelstrom. The constant ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ howling inside. His brother. The only family left, the one he thought was dead, is still alive. Wanted more than ever. How? why?

No, there isn’t time for this. Something’s started. Things are moving. Deep breaths. You can sort this out.

“Glad to know he’s still alive and kicking” Dave managed, he didn’t even try to look impassive. He felt numb, tired, sick enough of the news to mask it with derisiveness. He was unfeeling. And for the first time for a long time he felt empty like all the fucks he gave just flew out of the window. The sweet feeling of apathy in his lungs.

“Dave-”

“Thanks for the news,” Dave forced, “at least we still know he’s there somewhere... excuse me. I’ve still got my supplies to fill”

“Well, if you say so... I’ll catch up with you later...” Rose paused. “You sure you’ll manage?”

“Positive. Don’t you have your beloved beau to catch up with? That really refined troll? I bet sempai will probably be happy to see her young kouhai flouncing beside her.”

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Dave swore that there was a slight tinted flush on his cousin’s cheeks. “Shut up” she muttered before stomping away from her teasing cousin, mission accomplished.

“Take care of yourself Strider,” Rose began, “or I swear I will come after you. You wouldn’t want that to happen... would you?”

“No Ma’am,” Dave mock saluted and waved good bye at the retreating purple figure.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Thankfully, it took him around twenty minutes to wrap up his shopping trip and another ten to go up the scaffolding once more with the significantly heavier load to the western scaffolding lift. The air suddenly felt stifling, too heavy to breathe in. Seriously, it was only by hard earned experience that he didn’t completely melt down under such pressure. But maybe that was just the weight of the monthly groceries he is shopping for two people. Yes, maybe it was just the load weighing him down.

So maybe that was why, when Dave found John awake in his bed, it took him everything not to interrogate the only unsuspecting guest of his whereabouts.

Just barely though.

“Have you seen the note?” He finally asked. His voice slightly tenser than intended.

“Yeah, it was kind of hard to miss. Seeing that it’s right in front of me and all” Ooh! Snark! He could do some snark.

“And? Did you go out?” Dave asked slightly panicked. What if John was illiterate?

“No? Why would I?” The dark haired boy replied, confused “I read your note.” He looked at Dave, who was currently paralysed by the innocent glow of someone totally out of the loop. “Why? What’s the matter? It’s not like I can go out in this state can I?”

“Not unless you really want to get targeted by a bunch of nosy investigative douchebags you call agents, no. I think you shouldn’t go out. We’re being watched.” At this John paled slightly. “Oh, but don’t worry” Dave added “It’s me they want”

“Who are they? What’s going on?” He felt John’s bright blue eyes scanning his face . “Is everything alright? You look tense.”

“All’s well and good,” Dave managed. “Spiffy,” he felt his words pouring out. “Yep everything’s right as rain. Speaking of the rain, there’s a shower predicted today or something. It’s kind of odd seeing as there aren’t clouds in the sky, and it’s still god awfully bright like normal days are...” He felt himself ramble on for a bit. An unconscious habit which left half the words stuck in his throat and the other half to evaporate into thin air, and caused Rose much misery throughout their continued years of friendship. It kept coming, and even he could tell that his voice is starting to sound angry.

“Dave...” John interrupted, his expression, calm, so freaking zen-like. “It’s okay...you don’t have to tell me about it”

Dave went silent... as much as he wanted to punch a wall and kick something right now, John was probably the only reason that’s stopping him from doing something stupid.

But... could he trust him? John’s still a stranger, one he just met yesterday out of the blue - a possible alien of Derse. A Prospitian - or so he claimed. The fact that he felt could instantly trust the dark haired boy the first time they had met unsettled him. What if John wasn’t actually who he claimed he was?

“Nah, sorry man. I just had a rough morning,” Dave dismissed. Understatement of the year, that. “I’ve got us supplies, in case you’re wondering where I was at. We were running low.”

“Oh.” John’s facial expression was drawn in surprise.

“Anyway, just give me a shout if you need me or something. I’ll be at the kitchen stocking up the inventory. See ya.” Dave shuffled out of view with the supplies.

Maybe it was better to keep distance from John right now. A dash of healthy doubt might save him one day, like the countless times it did in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! another chapter! and so soon! I'll try to keep this up until all drafts at the moment are finished.


	11. Deadly Concerns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated New Years!  
> New chapter and all that jazz.  
> this chapter is harder to write than expected. For the people who subscribed, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter.  
> It's a bit info saturated but all of this is to set the the plot more into the metaphorical stones.  
> I'm hoping to release another chapter, but the chances of that before college starts once more is quite slim.  
> but still...
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy this long due chapter!

 The sun sizzled throughout the afternoon, burning every being under it’s wake. The  incinerating light filtered through front doors of the Courier’s Office which was always open and exposed to it’s rays during office hours. Outside, people trudged through the streets as if they were simultaneously wading through mud and melting through each other, congealing into a thick unrecognizable goop.

 Another long day at the Courier’s Office, another ordinary afternoon.

 ‘How... monotonous,’ thought Rose. This is definitely false job advertisement. Whatever happened to the offered new experiences? What happened to the interesting rumors and all the deep dirty dark secrets you could pry open from people? What happened to the time spent on doing the ‘real’ and fun work?

 Apparently, the reality of the Office begs to differ.

 Rose had entered the Courier’s Office in hopes of a real job, an actual goal to aim for and the experiences it had so promised. During her first day, Rose found herself condemned to a room in the corner to sort mail, despite the job’s seemingly vivacious claims.

 Sort mail?! Seriously, of all the tasks she could have been assigned to, Rose was stuck in the back room where doing nothing, absolutely nothing - except for a couple of dead mice she and Jaspers - the Courier Office’s kitty mascot, would dissect - is the new raging trend for the average courier intern.

 It’s not like there’s a lot of mail either, the morning sorting generally took care of most of the mail needed to be delivered. That left her to her own devices for the rest of her day. This would be fine in itself, but the fact that she wasn’t allowed to leave her post in the middle of the day even though she was officially done with her work often left her wanting to rip hairs out of her head.

 Stupid pesky rules.

 Rose impatiently tapped her quill against her book. The page was still irritatingly blank compared to the previous ones before it - and stared at the tiny mailroom window. The barred opening faced the Courier’s lobby and the mail pickup department waiting for it’s iron bars to collect dust. Rose watched the idle figures gravitate towards the other offices (Grr... those lucky imbeciles) and wondered why in the world did the mail sorting area even have a window?

 She couldn’t think. The wells of her mind had ran dry against the sun’s sharp rays and the musty confining office. This is the allocated free time she had made for herself and her thoughts. This is the time for her novel-to-bes to grow and foster into _actual_ manuscript pages and eventually, become bestsellers that will fly off the shelves of stores. Worrying things and other thoughts can come later. She needed to world build, write character descriptions and designs.

 So why wasn’t her mind cooperating with her?!

 Something has happened in the palace. It won’t be soon now until the mailroom gets flooded with panicked correspondence. They’d just put the wanted posters up this morning. The most wanted criminal of the Dersian crater had struck again. Now his face became the most predominant thing on walls, plastered on every available surface.The posters definitely had something to do with the palace attack. It’s not like they made an effort to hide that fact that something had happened yesterday in the palace. (Rose suspects that deep down, the empire didn’t have the resources to do so anyway what with the fallen economy and all)

 Morning was obviously filled with hectic activities. Even interns were sent out to do field work to cover all terrains with the royal notice. The excursion had filled her with nothing but odd unpleasant feelings since it’s start. This was strange. Since she had always wished for an escape from the dull walls of the mailroom and looked forward to actual fieldwork in this dead-end intern job. Rose supposed that it could be some sort of twisted retribution for something she must have done in one of her past lives.

 And then she’d met Dave. She had to hand that piece of paper to him, didn’t she?

 Well it’s not like it’d be easier to keep him in the dark anyway. First of all, the town criers and all that propaganda bullshit was already everywhere. Anymore of those notices and Derse would probably use it as road carpeting. Secondly, and most importantly, as much as didn’t want to break the news to him she knew that it’ll betray their friendship if she didn’t hand him the poster.

 The most frustrating thing to Rose was she had to do it. She knew it would better for her to break it to him anyway. Who knew what he’d do if he found out another way? Recklessness runs in the House of Strider. There was a chance that Dave could have raised high hell and given the Condescension’s Special force and excuse to off him there and then, and where would they all be? It was frustrating but it had to be done, hadn’t it?

 It took a large amount of convincing (and manipulating on Rose’s part) for Dave to be truly comfortable public light once again. And it took an even larger amount of work to convince her bull-headed cousin that it’s alright to live on as another person, to follow his own ideals, to live on and open up to the ones who cared about him. All of their hard work, taken away by a single sheet of stupid paper. And she had to watch it happen, torn away one second after another.

 There was a time when that troublesome cousin of hers was stuck in a bad place and that was a dark time for them all. The Striders were always a handful, Dave especially.

 Not that she blamed him. Even compared to the family situations of the people present in the take over, the Striders are pretty screwed up.

 Before the takeover, the House of Strider, the House of Lalonde, and several other notable families had burned under the cold passive moon. Only five - including her, had survived the event all thanks to the incredible Commander Strider - a brilliant man, a prodigy in combat, and a sharp tactician to boot.

 She was just a little baby back then. All of this she’d heard from her sister, Roxy, who told her in one of the darker nights. In retrospect, it seemed so obvious that it was set up by the Condescension’s people, to have  those people to burn before hand. Smoking out her enemies and putting them to sleep immediately.

 The Commander perished mysteriously in one of the futile attempts to stop the Condescension’s party and overthrowing the throne. This left the two Striders bereft of their father.

 She’d known the Striders since their childhood years and had been close with the brothers, but not as close as they were to each other.  Even then, Rose always had the impression that Dirk was always composed. Despite how their two Houses are practically joined by the hip, she’d never seen the elder strider lose it officially. She knew that his facade hid something darker, angrier. It was something the shadows have told her- and the shadows have told many horrible truths to her. Whatever the torment was, the images were hidden like a terrible secret in Dirk’s heart. His expressions are usually stony and his eyes were shaded from the world, unreadable. There was something intimidating about the elder Strider. He was the best in everything and Dave would usually tell her about the cool accomplishments he had done. Dirk was well versed in the academics and literature and an inventor of devices and contraptions. He was a fighter, unmatched by even the most experienced in the field, with latent ability none had ever seen before rivalling Commander Strider and the twelve Founders themselves.

 It was no wonder that the betrayal of what his brother ought to be and what he really was like broke Dave the most.

 All for a foolish cause.

 The resistance was a sham. A bunch of fools running around impeding systems and delaying things in the name of ‘Justice’, and for what? It had only caused more misery and torment to those who were innocent around them.

 This too will be futile, whatever this odd action by the resistance front has done will be paid back by the ordinary people living under the Condescension’s ugly wrath. Normal innocent people will be harmed.

 God knows how many innocent cullings had already happened.

 The betrayal had left Dave unresponsive and robotic. And now he had regressed back to the same point once more, mask on and closed off from the world. It was somewhat frightening to relive that moment, as fleeting as it may be. At least, Rose hoped that it was fleeting.

 There was little that she could do without endangering their friendship, and it’s so frustrating to be so powerless.

 Speaking about siblings... Dave’s wasn’t the only one afflicted by a sudden change in behavior.

 Lately, Roxy’s been acting really strange. Her affectionate doting sister (sometimes to an impossibly sickening degree) had been oddly distant. What used to be a regular daily interaction from her sister has been reduced to a distracted ruffling of Rose’s hair before she goes off to ‘work’ or as she calls it: ‘boring paper bullshit’. Roxy would eventually return to the estate in the early hours of morn. Although, lately she has had to resort to staying overnight at the Brewery.

 This behavior struck her as extremely odd. Although Lalonde Breweries (Formerly known as Lalonde Vintage Breweries) used to be the major brewers of liquor and medicines, a majority of their shareholders and their stocks of inventory had been annihilated under the commotion of the takeover. Even today the brewery hasn’t recovered most of its assets. Since the wines aren’t in season yet and the harvest and planting of the grapes and barley had been done already, there was nothing for Roxy to do.

 Sales of these beverages haven’t gone well either. What with many of the rich decapitated and the middle class so weighed down by taxes.  It’s a miracle that the Lalonde Breweries is still standing and haven’t gone out of business yet.

 But what gave her sister away was the charity events.

 Charity events aren’t anything new. The Lalondes  have held this as tradition to help out the poor long before the days of the Condescension’s rule. Despite that, Roxy’s excuses of going to those events to check up on things never turned out to be true. Oftentimes the events Roxy had listed hadn’t even existed in the first place.

 Roxy has never lied to her. If it was a topic she didn’t want to talk about she’d tell her as such or go silent until Rose chose another subject. Roxy never straight out lied to her

 But then it’s really not her business to nose in her sister’s affairs is it?

 She wondered if Dave had to deal with such things from his brother.

 It’s natural to worry about a sibling Rose rationalized. Especially if they’ve been expressing strange behaviors.

 These thoughts had only worsened and became unbearably heavy due to the fact that Rose was currently incapacitated by her stupid job to do anything to alleviate her worries. She was still confined in this cage of a room.

 Really, what’s the point of being an intern if you were kept ignorant from other aspects of mail delivery and fieldwork?

 ‘ _The ones with the coloured sashes have the most fun_ ’, Rose mused, although she probably wouldn’t want to work in top management with all the other purple sashes. The paperwork would drive her crazy and probably make her gain an additional ten levels of respect to her dear old sister.

 She really does envy those runners though, flitting around with their reds yellows and greens. They all had something to do while she was trapped with these stupid needless thoughts.

 Frustrated, she checked the clock and proceeded to let out a groan. 4:37?! Can’t today go any slower? she threw her quill down the table and closed her book in disgust.

 “Rose?”

 Rose, startled from her rage, flushed at the soft melodious voice. “Maryam,” she answered, hoping her voice was steady “how may I help you?”

 ‘ _At least there was a silver lining in this job,_ ’ Rose silently amended.

 Kanaya Maryam, a nymph-like  troll with perfect dark curly locks and flawless poise stood all in her glory in front of Rose. Her modified courier’s uniform,impeccable and sure to become the latest fashion trend among the couriers, was surprisingly clean despite the fact that the graceful troll had only returned from her mail expeditions.

 Rose had to agree with herself once more that Kanaya Maryam is indeed a sight for sore eyes.

 “Well, you seemed a bit unoccupied, and I’ve heard you sighing quite a bit  earlier...” Maryam began slowly, “Is everything alright? Are you running into mailroom trouble?”

 It felt as if her heartbeats had significantly increased after these words. Kanaya Maryam had noticed her sighing! What’s more she’s was kind enough to inquire about her woes and troubles! Rather than letting these thoughts out, she came with what she hoped was a steady coherent reply “Actually... I’d rather it just be mailroom troubles that I’m drowning in.” Rose attempted a small smile, “It’s about some family stuff... something... complicated happened.”

 “Oh.” Maryam replied leaning forward at the barred sorting counter, her delicate features contemplative. (God! those lips!) “Hmm... I do not really have any ‘familial’ experiences with my biological parents,” she began, her expression suddenly sheepish. “But... I could lend an ear for your troubles if you want,” she offered. “After all, I believe they say that two heads are better than one.”

 “Are you sure, Maryam?” Rose couldn’t believe her luck. But then again, Maryam’s compassion was one of the reasons why Rose was so taken with the elegant troll in the first place. Her kindness knows no bounds.

 “Please, Rose, I think we’ve exchanged enough books to establish a first name basis with each other.” Maryam smiled. “I’ve certainly dropped yours today.”

 “Okay... Kanaya,” she tried the name out carefully, earning a chuckle from the said troll. “Would you listen to my troubles?”

 So that was how, a minute later, they ended up sitting face to face in the mailroom office with two cups of tea (courtesy to the mailroom staff kettle).

 Kanaya proved to be a skillful listener. Rose told Kanaya of her family, how her sister acted strangely distant and oddly shifty towards her. She talked a bit about the Striders and explained her worries about Dave, who has also been increasingly distracted and reclusive ever since he was assigned to the isolated post. She told Kanaya all of these things all the while suppressing the seemingly incriminating evidence of the Striders, who knows who might be eavesdropping?

 The two shared a long silence over quiet sips of tea. _‘Maybe too long’_ Rose’s mind added nervously.

 “It seems like a convoluted problem if you put it that way.” Kanaya finally spoke breaking the silence, her pale grey hands set the teacup down.

 Rose sighed. “I suppose I could be over thinking some of these issues,” she agreed. “Just because this is a first for something. Roxy’s never really told me about her events much anyway. Perhaps it’s just been a rough week for her.”

 “Well...” Kanaya began again. “If you are worried of your friend’s well being and concerned about his shifty withdrawn attitude, the only prudent and practical thing to do is to confront the issue... before it is too late.” At this Kanaya looked directly at Rose. Emeralds against amethysts, Kanaya began again, “ You’re a caring person.” Rose flushed at this slightly. She fought against that warm fuzzy feeling those words brought her.

 “Considerate of other people’s boundaries and always worrying over other people in the sidelines,” Kanaya continued. “But - And I know this by experience -  I’ve lost several friendships of mine thinking that it’d be better to give them space, let them figure it out themselves when they’re stuck and staying silently behind them watching. I know, definitely, that if I could turn back time without consequences, I’d tell myself to do something, anything to reach out and try to help them through the problem. Anything is better than watching.”

 Rose considered the advice for a moment studying Kanaya’s sincere face. “So I should voice my concerns then?”

 “In short? Yes.”

 “... but when?”

 “Whenever’s fine. But the sooner the better I suppose... Before this Dave, closes himself off too much. Before it’s too late I mean. If he values your opinions, your words of concern should get through him. ”

 Kanaya stood up from her chair. “I hope that helps,” she began. “Erm...” she hesitated. “I would like to stay a bit longer and talk about the book you’d lent me yesterday but -” Kanaya stopped as she noticed the approaching figure. A female Troll of her age with distinctive pointy horns, red specs, and a wickedly sharp smile. “Ah speak of the troll. I’ve got to go now... Second shift calls. Good luck on your friend!” Kanaya quickly exited the mail room to meet the girl in the red glasses together they exited the building conversing in Alternian.

 And then there was one.

 But thanks to Kanaya, she wasn’t so lost anymore. Rose now had concrete steps to take and people to confront.  She resolved to do it today, both for sanity and her non existent ulcers.

 She immediately exited the Courier’s Office the second the clock struck five, determined to clarify things once and for all. She made her way through the familiar landscapes, ventured up the scaffoldings and took all the available elevator rides up to the top.  The journey took twenty grueling minutes. By the time she completed the ridiculous pilgrimage, Rose understood why the seemingly harsh training of the knights was never reformed over the years. The walls are relentless.

 Finally, she reached her destination, one of the top most bunkers of the western wall - the most isolated post along the Dersian crater. From here she could see the whole city, the palace, the Founder’s bridge, Main Street, the plazas and squares, the training fields, the courier’s office, the old botanical gardens. She could see those landmarks and many more with ranging visibilities. She could see the eastern wall and beyond the Other End. Rose sat on the ledge for a while resting from her trek taking the view in. At least the bunker her cousin lived in was a prime real estate area.

 It couldn’t be that bad for him... could it? She thought of waiting longer to see the setting sun and then thought against it. There was a time and place for everything, and the setting sun is the last thing that should be on her mind right now. Perhaps she could come later with her book to document the sights and sounds, but she had objectives to complete this time.

 With that in mind Rose stood up, steeling herself and taking a deep breath as she approached the bunker door. ‘It’s now or never, Rose,’ she thought as she pushed the door open ready to get the confrontation over with.

 “Dav-” she shouted, but her voice died when she saw the scene before her.

 Because the person in front of her wasn’t Dave.

 Rose blinked at the figure. The figure blinked back frozen from a weird mid squat. She suddenly noticed Dave beside the stranger, jaws slack in surprise suspended in astonishment. She noted Dave’s hands on the stranger’s shoulders and chest. he looked like he was adjusting the stranger to do something.

 Rose, being the only rational person in the room, wisely closed the bunker door without comment and calmly turned around to face the two boys again. She then walked over to the dining table and dragged a chair over to the still frozen figures. She primly sat on the furniture before saying:

 “The fuck Dave?”

 Because really, that’s what she’d always wanted to ask him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Rose is... challenging. I mean of all the characters, I think I tend to understand her the most. but I suck at grammar stuff. so it's hard to translate from a to b. this chapter has been edited to the best of our abilities.  
> In terms of the Homestuck formality spectrum Rose probably ranks the third or the fourth in line among the alpha kids, beta kids, and the trolls.  
> With characters, I'm still having some tonal trouble. my plan is to somewhat flesh them out a bit through writing.
> 
> Anyways, feedback and comments are always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> yay! I wrote a thing. Kinda short but yeah... I'll work on it....


End file.
